The scene opens to Luca Arzegotti walking around like he's got a stick up his ass or something. He also appears to have put on 80 or so pounds of pure fat. Walking in plain view of the camera, the viewers can now see that he's wearing a Peter Gilmour T-shirt.

"Hell yeah motherfuckers! I'm Peter fucking Gilmour and I'm about to take this shit to the X-TREEEEEEEEEEEME! And I'm about to go in half cocked and not even pay attention to the task at hand because I already won this bitch!

HEY JOHN MADISON! FUCK YOU! YOU'RE A JUST LIKE YOUR LOVER BOY LUCA, WHICH SEEMS TO BE THE ONLY THING I CAN EVEN TALK ABOUT THESE DAYS. YOU'D THINK THAT IF YOU WERE AS MUCH OF A FUCKING BITCH AS I SAY YOU ARE, I'D FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO INSULT, BUT NOPE! Because I'm Peter Gilmour and I rant just like Christian Bale.

Oh, but I'm not done! Heironeous, you may have beaten me, but you didn't actually win! All you did was get the pin, which does constitute winning, but I was screwed!

ROBBED!

CHEATED!

By John Madison, the same bitch I keep saying can't do shit! He did cost me a match so maybe I should start taking him a little bit serious, but nope! I'm Peter Gilmour, and I've eaten too much lead paint in my life to distinguish a good point from an idiotic temper tantrum! Durk-a-herka!

Allow me to do my specialty and make fun of my opponents names!

Luca ArzeGAYBOY!

DAYDREAM!

HeirBITCH!

Mark, THE FLAMING , Flynn!

and whatever GAYBOY is the last entrant.

I'm Peter Gilmour, and I'm going to take this match TO THE X-TREEEEEEEEEEEEME! I'm going to be the most X-TREEEEEEEME first person to be eliminated in any match ever!"

Luca then rips off the Peter Gilmour shirt and throws the shreds on the ground. The three pillows he had tucked behind the shirt fall too. He now looks like he normally does, the T-Shirt he had on underneath the pillows simply reading "I hate the bands you like."

"Now that I have your attention Petey, I'd like to say a few things to you personally. Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a self help type deal. I would honestly be the last guy to try to tell someone how to live there life and all...

Anyway, first. Aren't you glad that I bought your T-Shirt? I mean, even if it was only for a gag, I was the first person to actually buy one! Your first customer! The only person who paid for you, is me! How fucking funny is that?

But wait, it gets even better...

Because everyone! Peter Gilmour thinks he can pull the impossible...

TWICE!"

Luca begins to roll around the ground, laughter consuming him. He shakes it out of his system and stands back up, still smirking.

"Oh man Gilmour, you're hilarious. You think for a second you have a chance in this match? You, the man who makes Nightmare look like Charles Manson. The man who makes his fiance look like a bigger badass than himself. This man, who LOST to Heironeous. Despite all of those things, you still think you have a shot of getting out of the starter gate? Allow me to spoil how it's going to go for you and all of your three fans, but you're going to get killed the second you step out of your pod, that is if you aren't out first.

There isn't a single man in this match, and that's counting the no name who'll be determined later, who couldn't kick the shit out of you. The only question is who will be the one to beat the sense back into you?

Pick your poison Gilly, right now.

Who do you want to bury your career?

Me, the guy who'll just laugh and beat your corpse with the shovel, and in the end decide to leave you half buried in the middle of YOUR hometown.

Flynn, who'll probably just eat your corpse for the next week.

Nightmare, who'll take you to his pretend land so he isn't so lonely anymore.

Heironeous, who'll force you to play D&D for eternity.

Or that no name fucktard, who doesn't get a prediction because he sucks.

Because that is your only fate.

Humiliating defeat.

You should be used to that by now though, considering you've lost to Heironeous and Chris Macbeth, among others whose names I can't even remember. Do you wanna know why I'm making a special interest to you?

Because you're the hometown hero.

Heroes don't win in my books.

Simple, really.

So, I must ask why you want to make things so complicated. Why?

Why is it that the only thing you seem to be able to say as of late is that John Madison and I are lovers? Having some repressed feelings there? Wish you could somehow be good enough that Madison decides to make you into a sex slave?

I bet you do.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, what you do in your spare time is your business. Just don't try to condemn others that you want to think do the same. Hypocrite.

Gay jokes aside, do you want to know why anyone even watches you do half of the shit you drudge through every match. Every promo.

It's because you're fat.

There.

No sugarcoating, you'd eat that too.

So, the first man I target is a fat, talentless, closeted homosexual who has an unhealthy fixation on my sex life.

Only fitting that I deal with my exact opposite first off.

You're my antithesis.

And for that, I'll exterminate you.

Nothing personal, just business.

I'll have fun exterminating you nonetheless.

It's important to enjoy what you do.

For example, you enjoy being a worthless waste of card space on the third tier piece of XWF programming, and I enjoy stealing wins and ruining people's lives faster than a missed period.

Same difference."

The scene fades out to a picture of Peter Gilmour, with writing on it. The writing reads:

"Cry more Gilly. Your tears are delicious. - Luca Arzegotti"