"Hold the fucking phone. And if you don't have a phone by you, explain why the fuck not. Because we have a real issue to discuss here. Grab your phone, or your dog's dick, I really don't give a fuck. James Raven, the guy who can't stop imagining Robbie Bourbon jizzing all over his face while singing Living La Vida Loca, in perfect Portuguese no less, thinks that I'm Pest? And that's why he's excited? He thinks the Big Dick Playa, a Pimp named Slickback, Lord Large Schlong, is Pest? Seriously? It takes all of five fucking minutes to go to the XWF records, and search Pest out. He's not me, he's a weird creepy dude who likes to diddle kids. Odd that he could be diddling kids, and convincing people he was James at the same time, unless something's up with people's perception of James, though. That's irrelephant, though. What's important is that Jimmy here can't tell the difference between me, and some old ass dude. Maybe he's taken too many shots to the head. That's fine, because he'll be taking more hits to the head in this match. It's just the business we're in. Although, Jimbo might not be in this business for much longer. His anus will probably tear, like X-Pac, and he'll have to head out, again.

That's for the best, since Jimmy can't help but obsess over the past, and we're trying to move on to bigger and better things. Things like me punching him in the mouth. Then, as mentioned, letting Erik punch him in the mouth. Because that's teamwork, and Erik and I are a goddamn team, so we've gotta work together. None of the pussy ass planning to sabotage my team in the finals to help out some dude with a lion's pubes on his head, and Dean Ambrose's less interesting cousin. That's just a dipshit coward move right there, claiming you're gonna throw the match, so that when you lose you can be like, El oh El, I did it on porpoise. That way, when I knock your dick into my own asshole, because that is definitely a plan of mine, you can act like you planned to do it to help out those rejects you've decided are worth the shit off a dead goldfish your mom got you from the carnival when you were nine. The one you called Roberto Diego Ignacio Ramon Cortez the third. And don't try and tell me you didn't have a goldfish with that name, it's not goddamn important. And it's not important how the fish died, and why the aquarium is filled with my jizz, that's totally a reasonable story, but we don't have time for it.

What we do have time for is laughing at Scully. Because this dog fucker thinks he can rock a mustache and not look like Lome's uncle Hank. You all know the one I mean, Hank "Thunder, I promise I'm not a kid diddler" Lane. Don't make me go back and dig up the tapes of that shit. Scully, shave that shit, Seriously, shave your face and your luck might improve. Not in the ring, no, there's no hope for you there. You're just pure dog shit, and should probably go ahead and swallow that bleach now. It'll be slow, but trust me, Tardpants, it'll be worth it. Make sure you drink around 6 quarts, though. Any less and you're a pussy. Don't be a pussy, you're not Gilmour. Actually, you should probably try and emulate Peter, because at least his reign as Universal Champion is memorable. You? You're not even really a footnote in Vinnie's biography. Which is odd, because there's an entire chapter dedicated to his love of AquaNet. You're literally less important than Hair Spray, and not even the John Travolta musical, that's just a cultural landmark.

And McBride, I guess it's time I address you honestly and accurately. Hahahahahahaha. Fuck you, you one off carrot dick. You're literally the exact same loser you were when I left, don't every change. I don't think you're capable of changing. That'd require a little bit of effort on your part. Which, I realize asking for that is akin to asking for people to actually be attracted to Blake Shelton. Sorry, but that's just not happening. Sorry, but he's not sexiest man alive, and I demand to know who voted for him? That homely dude that works at Costco, and likes Blake because Blake makes him feel sexy? And who are we comparing Blake to, in order to get that conclusion? Joseph Merrick? Erik Stoltz? Billy Joel in his youth? No, Billy's way prettier than Blake. Wow, McBride, you got me on a slight tangent there, because you're such a hack that it's nearly impossible to stay on subject when dissing you. Jesus. How is Peter the one doing most of the work in that tag team? He's normally being carried by other people, but you? He's dragging your limp ass body behind him like you were the last cart of Chicken Parm in the world left. It's kind of admirable. You're Peter's little stupid stray puppy.

Chaos, come on man. Here I am, standing here with arms wide open, asking you to focus up and pay attention to use right before we punch your beautiful hair right off your big ass head. And what do you do? You cry about Jim Caedus not giving you a reach around? Really? You honest to god think anyone cares about your beef with those fools? The fans care about that as much as they care about whether or not I've had a ham sandwich today. Spoiler alert, they don't, and I did. Great, we've settled that shit. Now, listen, Chris, I'm going to knock your dick into James' asshole, and then his dick into my asshole. It'll be a train of dudes baby elephanting it up, and I'll ask Erik to join in with us, because that'll make our team even stronger. Don't let me down, Erik and Chris. I don't need you to be the Killers' attempt at a follow up to Mr. Brightside. Nobody should be that."

---

---

---

---

---

---

Frodo, now removed from his stupid Grande costume, trudges down the street and knocks on a door on a nondescript house in a nondescript neighborhood. The door opens a smidge, and an eye pokes it. They size up the intrepid hobbit, and slam the door shut. Some locks open, and then the front door flies open. Inside is Crack, the loyal manservant and sometimes sibling of our pint sized hero. He's looking ragged, like he hasn't showered in a while, smells like it too. There's a bowl of rancid milk on the coffee table, that looks like it also held cereal once. The gun in his hand goes back into his pocket, and he steps back.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Pretending to be a with a dragon fetish for the last few months. I still got that dragon, his name is Mike."

Frodo pulls Mike out of the pocket of his hoodie and hold him out for Crack to see. He squats down, and looks the lizard in the eyes, and rubs his head a bit.

"And for the months and months before that?"

Mike runs up Frood's arm and nests on his shoulder.

"I was held in a Paraguayan crack den for about 8 months, shit was wild. They thought I was Kenny Baker, and wouldn't let me go. Apparently Kenny Baker owes them a lot of money. Fuck, that was intense. I had to fuck an 80 year old nun to escape. And I also pretended to be a priest at one point, but Jesus. Let me tell you, Paraguay is a wonderful country, and I hope to go back some day."

Crack walks over to the couch, and starts clearing it off for Frodo to sit on. He sits in a chair off to the side. Frodo sits down, and picks up the pipe laying on the coffee table, turning it slightly and examining it. Mike crawls from Frodo's shoulder to the couch.

"The country that held you hostage for months, because they thought you were the dude who played R2D2? They're a good country that you wanna go back to?"

Frodo puts the pipe in his mouth, and pulls out a lighter and begins to heat up the contents in the pipe. He inhales deeply, and then coughs a little.

"Yep. Also, the fuck did I just smoke?"

"Fuck if I know? That shit's not mine. It's the roommate's."

Frodo takes another hit of the pipe, and lays his head back on the nasty ass couch. A rat scurries across the floor, squeaking as it does.

"Fuck, bitch. You got a roommate? What happened to living with Sarah and the kids? Who's taking care of them?"

Just then a blonde woman comes walking into the room, her face hidden from Crack. She's recently showered, and is actually wearing clean clothes. A nice pair of jeans, and a pink hoodie, with a silver bracelet on her wrist.

"Who are you talking to, Crack?"

He just points, and she turns around, and her jaw hits the floor. It's mother fucking Katie fucking Smackins. She's apparently started smoking drugs of some sort, and seems to be doing well financially, judging by the bracelet. She leans in close to Frodo, and smacks him across the face.

"Where the fuck have you been, Dad?"

Crack picks up a blunt, and lights it, before taking in a deep hit. He laughs as he answers for the dumbstruck hobbit.

"Paraguay! Hahaha. Fucker got kidnapped."

Frodo leaps to his feet and goes to hug his daughter. She pushes him back. Mike lets out a big yawn from the back of the couch.

"And not a fucking letter or phone call to let us know you're ok? Mom thought you died, she's been a mess! And Joseph-Gordon is dealing drugs, like you started out doing. He's been picked up for selling weed a couple times. Never enough to stick, but still. And Swag ate a bullet."

Frodo drops the pipe on the floor. He can't believe the words that are coming out of Katie's mouth right now.

"Swag is dead?"

The other two just nod at Frodo.

"Fuck. Take me to Sarah. I need to see her. Come on Mike."

Mike leaps from the couch to Frodo's shoulder, and Crack stands up, the two of them start heading to the door. They turn and face Katie, who hasn't moved.

"You coming?"

"Fuck that. Sarah's gonna attack him, and I don't wanna get hit on accident."

They shrug and head out. The drive doesn't take long, and it's kind of boring. Frodo stopped on the way there to steal flowers from some lonely nerd kid trying to ask some girl to the prom. He just punched that dork in the face and took em. Like a fucking champion. Because let's not forget that he's a champion. They get to the house, and Crack parks the car. Frodo gets out, while Crack stays in the car. The walk up to the door is slow, and takes awhile. Once there, he knocks three times, and waits. Slowly the door opens, and Sarah is standing there, disheveled as fuck. Still looking hot, though. This narrator would hit it in a second. She looks at Frodo and slams the door in his face. He knocks again and she opens it once more.

"Where the actual fuck have you been?!"

"It's a very long story, but I was kidnapped and held in Paraguay for 8 months. After I escaped, I had to hide for a bit, so I pretended to be a with a dragon fetish. Somehow, even at my dumbest I was still smarter than Scully."

She slaps him hard across the face.

"And you couldn't have alerted us that you were alive?"

"I wasn't really subtle with me being Grande Ricardo, so I'm not sure how anyone who paid attention couldn't have known it was me. Did you not pay attention to the XWF?"

"No, not really. I've been a mess. Are you coming in?"

He smirks, and chuckles.

"The house, or you?"

She smirks back.

"The house, and then me in you."

"I have missed your cock."