On a Sunday morning in northern Virginia, the usually busy highway system is quiet, the road sparsely used on a beautiful, if not frigid, morning. Tractor trailers are nowhere to be seen, and the slightest smattering of out of state plates highlight the otherwise empty corridor of I-95 we see in front of us. That is, until, we see the odd sight of a school bus barreling down the highway.

Inside the bus all is warmer as a large group of children occupies each seat, some hollering to others, some sitting quietly and minding their business. Towards the front of the bus we see that Robbie Bourbon is driving the kids, and in the seats directly behind him we see Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, and Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, both grown men crammed into the pew like seat, both grown men looking disgruntled at each other, fidgeting for more space. Across the aisle is Blue, Robbie's girlfriend and handler, seated next to Ash, Robbie's personal stylist.

Scoot over!

I can't! If I do, my right cheek will be off the seat and my actual butthole will be pressed onto the edge of the seat.

Your literal butthole?

My literal butthole.

Well, whatever? I can't even reach in my pockets.

What's in your pockets?

Nothing, but that's not the point!

Shush!

Robbie bellows at his faithful and loyal Bourbon Men. The whole bus goes silent. Robbie glances in the massive mirror that's at the front of most school busses into the cabin of the bus.

Not you kids, you're alright.

The children resume making their childlike ruckus as Cyberjaw and Diamondback force frowns on their faces.

Honey, this is really nice of you to take these underpriveleged youths out on a retreat for Chris...

Ahem. The Holidays.

I thought you celebrated Christmas.

I do, but not all the kids do. A few of the kids parents are Wiccan and don't believe in Christmas.

The camera turns to show two children seated next to each other. One has dreadlocks down to her shoulders and is dressed just like Stevie Nicks. Next to her is a boy who is drinking a bottle of patchouli oil wearing some Harry Potter style Hogwarts jammies, proving he is indeed the product of Wicca and far from Judeo-Christian. The camera turns back to the front of the bus.

Oh, so you're getting them Christmas presents for the holidays?

Yeah, something like that.

You aren't going to try to teach them some important life lesson about the gift of sharing, the civic duties of the mega-rich, or how the season of giving is special, are you?

Nope, not wasting my time.

So you got them XBox Ones again?

Nah, that was last year, and I think we have a few holdovers from last year too who came along. This year I'm just going to give the kids Nintendo Switches and be done with it.

Wait, that's it?

That's it.

What's to stop the parents of some of these kids from just selling the damn things for, I dunno, something not for the kids?

Robbie rubs his chin in contemplation, obviously not having considered that potentially happening.

Hrmm.

Robbie slows the bus down and pulls over on the side of the road. The children begin to chatter to one another over the odd occurrence of their bus pulling over on the side of the freeway. As the bus comes to a stop, Robbie stands and turns to the bus full of kids.

Kids! Look, today you all know you're getting a very special present from Santa for the holidays, but if anybody tries to take that present, including your parents, I want you to take a knife and stab them with it! I know you're thinking "Robbie, that's scary, I don't want to stab my parents if they try to take my toys", but I promise you, if your parents try to take what Santa gives you, they need to get stabbed good with a really big and sharp knife.

Blue glances up at Robbie and clears her throat. Robbie rolls his eyes.

Okay, only stab them in the leg.

Blue stands and turns.

He's kidding, don't stab your parents.

No, I'm not. Stab good ole' mom and dad if they try to take the present Santa gives you. His elves worked long and hard all year to make them.

One kid stands up.

My parents are gone, I live with my grandma.

Well if grandma tries to take your presents, stab her.

Another child pipes up.

I live with my auntie and uncle.

Well, stab them if you have to. Whoever it is that takes care of you, stab them if they try to sell your present that Santa gives you.

My brother might take mine!

Stab him in the foot so he can't get away!

My cousin took my favorite eraser!

Stab them in the eyes with a pencil while they sleep! Kids, what do we do if people try to take our stuff?

The kids all holler back in unison.

Stab them!

That's right.

Robbie turns and sits in the driver's seat again.

I thought you weren't going to teach them any life lessons.

I haven't.

You just instructed a bus full of children to stab their legal guardians.

And siblings.

Well, they need to defend what's theirs and not allow their deadbeat junkie parents to sell off what little they have to feed an addiction. Imagine, if one deadbeat junkie gets a knife to the leg and spends time in the hospital getting clean, I will have done the world a great service.

I suppose...

There you go.

Are Engy and Pig going to be at the retreat?

I don't think so. I think Pig was going to go do his thing for a bit, probably something involving smoking a ton of pot and maybe getting laid. I don't think a group of grown ups being all stoned and watching children is in tune with the holiday spirit.

But telling them to stab people is?

Under the right circumstances, absolutely. Engy is probably up to some creepshow kind of thing, really violent and scary.

Like convincing a bus full of children to...

Blah, blah, blah, I get it already, you don't like the kids being able to stand up for their Nintendo Switch consoles.

Robbie slows the bus down again on the freeway and pulls over again. The kids are all agog at this happening a second time. Robbie stands and turns to the children.

Kids, disregard everything I said about stabbing anybody if they try to take your shit. Just don't.

The kids all go "awwwwwwww" in unison, like someone cancelled Christmas. Blue rolls her eyes and stands up beside Robbie.

That's right, kids. If someone tries to take your Nintendo Switch...

The kids all excitedly cheer, the cat out of the bag on the surprise that was in store.

If someone tries to take your Nintendo Switch, you just have to email, call, text, or write a letter to Robbie here and he'll take care of it.

I'll what? Be the warrantee?

That's right, just tell Robbie and he'll fix it.

I was focusing on self-reliance. Snitches get stitches and lie in ditches, even if it's over Nintendo Switches, hon.

Well they can rely on you. You're Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon, the Sigma Motherfucker, the Man of the People, and Universal Champion.

Well, duh.

Robbie smiles and pats the Universal Championship belt fit snugly around his waist, which he is wearing while driving a bus, which can't be all that comfortable but the people deserve a champion who'll take no shortcuts.

Now kids, you know who is alright to stab? Racists. People like Robert Main.

Wait, you're going to talk about Robert Main?

Yep.

Fuck that guy.

I agree, bud. Robert Main is a living, breathing piece of human garbage and filth who deserved to be destroyed. Racist to a fault, offending you for the fact that, what, you have different colored skin? Sounds like Bob got upstaged by a black dude at Prom, got embarrassed by having tiny testicles in the shower when looking upon a Nubian meat rocket in awe, ecstasy, and astonishment, got picked last for dodgeball in gym class, and will never understand the meaning to any Fugees song. Who cares what the cause is, though.

Aren't you worried he's going to holler at you, shouting sentence after sentence about how he's beaten you twice?

No, because I already know he's going to holler at me, shouting sentence after sentence about how he's beaten me twice. It's like being afraid of the dentist after your first two trips, or worrying about whether your cock is going to fit the third time you nail someone.

What's nailing someone?

Ask your deadbeat junkie parent.

Okay.

Bobby Main, the guy with his head so far up his ass that he's up to his ass in his ass. I know that sounds really complex, and perhaps a little far reaching, but Bob managed it. Sure, I've never beat him, but there were a few factors at play before. For starters, that was then and this is now. Secondly, I have the full force of the Motherfuckers alongside me, and the three of us are the most terrifying force in wrestling today. Hell, we're so scary that Jim Caedus left us because we had one unifying factor to being a Motherfucker: a fucking backbone. So Bobby convinced Jim that we were bad guys or some such, who knows and who the fuck cares. I guess that residual Ax3 flame got sparked again, only now they're the Apex, which is a pretty dopey name for any group that thinks revealing Drew Archyle as a secret weapon is noteworthy. Archyle, the guy who was here for like three months then I guess went out into the woods and got lost.

Bobby Main, as exciting as a bowl of tapioca pudding, half as smart, a third as cute, and one seventeenth as charismatic.

You know what will be exciting? Seeing you in a cage. A doomsday, fuck-off, double cage of hate and malice and other scary sounding words. You slack-jawed, cock smoking, fist-up-your-asshole racist sumbitch, coming to the ring at War Games with the biggest disappointment of a team-up since Ax3 because it practically is Ax3 only with Archyle instead of Reno (and hey, at least Reno did something noteworthy in his time here in being a massive cunt, juxtapose Drew Archyle, who's just an average cunt). I'ma Robbiebomb your silly ass through a cage wall, toss you on top of the steel, then Robbiebomb your silly ass through the cage ceiling.