(Fade In: Our strapping young lad, Peter File is seen flicking his fingers against a wall and shaking his rear end, which is slightly exposed in stone washed short shorts. He is vaguely reminiscent of a young George Michael.)
File: Stevey, I must agree with you.. the WFW: New Era does a shotty job at promoting themselves, I mean heck.. a File v. Johnson should be seen in many homes.. even though me versus a johnson has generally resulted in a restraining order or two, depending on which school district you're in of course.. luckily we're in Alabama and to my knowledge there are few and far between.. I hope. But, on the safe side we'll change your name from Slick Johnny to.. Slippery Willy, and I'm fairly certain that no one within a pickups distance of the venue would be able to tell the difference. Hell, I'm sure many more would show up just to see a Slippery Willy in person, dontcha' think my darling? I sure do.. but, only time can tell! Tickity-tock-around-the-clock!
<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> So hmm, let us how that Twitter comes in handy and that some fans decide to pack the arena with all their fudge covered hands. If they do, they can see some fine matches, many of which you've eluded to, and for those you haven't.. well, eh.. who cares? The only one that anyone truly cares for is that one between you and I, Stevey baby. The interwebs are buzzing with exciting, heck all the smart marks are already filling up their monthly forum quota with speculation on what will be the outcome of this highly anticipated sppppppppeeeeec-tack-ular! If only I were l33t enough, I could sign up and tell these young whippersnappers in their mothers basements that their idol shall win, and in all his glory make sure that the peepee soaked heck hole known as Steve Johnson finally receives that dreaded Rear Admiral he's been needing.
(Peter begins to laugh to himself, bringing it to a hacking conclusion.)
<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> File: welp, man.. that is got to be the best name for a finishing maneuver ever. Gosh, it is as if I'm the Stephen Hawking of finishers or something.. y'know minus the debilitating nervous disorder and robot voice. Hmm.. maybe I can bust a little jig for you at the show darling, and robot all over your face as you stare up at my gyrating crotch-o-doom! Boogey-oogey ooh! Anywhos. Like homo habilis coming out of the fields and turning into homo rudolfensis, I have evolved, even if your eyes haven't yet adjusted to the change. Y'see, while I am a fan of the 1980's and their seductively good pop hits, Reagen-era tax cuts and bottom feeding leach Wall Street power brokers.. I wouldn't exactly say that the era is still one for which I wish to once again rejoin. Who doesn't enjoy a Bananarama tune now and again? I sure do! So, just because my outer shell confuses you, perplexes you and from the sight of those nipples peeking through that mmm.. so tight shirt of yours, a little turned on.. doesn't mean there isn't more to meet the eye baby cakes. Listen, I am not here to sugarcoat things for you, or for anyone.
<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> Hmm.. there just seems to be one confusing thing about all you've said thus far, and that is how a man who had never heard of me a few days now seems to know all there is about me. This question has truly dogged me, for even though you're a college graduate.. I'm sure the Recreation and Leisure degree didn't require a lot of reading.. so you couldn't have found out about me that way.. and well lets face it.. if it wasn't Sporscenter I appeared on, you didn't watch any video. So, I guess you're just attempting to stereotype me, confine me, mmm.. BOX me.. oh my baby, you need to learn not to be so judgmental! The kids are watching! What will they learn from this! Tsk! Tsk! Tskity-tsk-tsk-shut up!
<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> You'll want to claim I cheat, yet there is no proof of me ever attempting to cheat to win. While cleanliness may not be a personal trait I aspire for, it is something I require in the ring.. for how else can anyone truly begin to appreciate an athlete for who he or she really is? I may be predictable, I may not be.. come Buttplugged we'll find out what you really think when we are no more than an arms length apart for our match.
<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> (Peter lifts his arms to the sky and begins to stretch, and yawn.)
File: I am so very tired of your remarks, they're dull like a British sitcom. My sexual appetite may not offend you, or even concern you on the surface.. but when you squeal like a pig under my mm... enormous girth we'll see if you turn the other cheek. Y'see, I've done my fair share of pitching.. catching.. bobbing for apples.. Tuscaloosa mudslides.. and Dutch ovens, and all the while entertained the millions across the world who have seen this... 'vitriol'... on their boob-tubes. They're probably more offended by the $40 ticket prices than a man parading his sexuality across the screen.. I mean, we're in a depression! FORTY WHOLE DOLLAS? What is this.. especially to see no-gimmicked jerkoffs play in tights?
<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> (In a nasally voice, Peter File begins to imitate that of Steve Johnson.)
File: To be honest with you, I had never heard of you, and now that I have I am sorry I did. A-ha. Stevey, again you point out how you've seen my matches develop into some sort of 'disaster pornography'.. which, I'm not sure what that is.. Katrina? Are you stalking me? You try to say you know nothing of me.. then know all about me.. and then have soiled sheets over the thought of me covered in blood, and God only knows what other secretions are coming from all your various orphases. See, I am a wrestler by trade, and you should know from all your late night fondle-fests that I am nothing but, and just as you say.. a BAD match or not.. there will be wrestling.. and the only thing hardcore will be the scene in the lockeroom after I pin you.. in the ring .. and mm.. in the back. I'm sure there are many in Province Town who would love to see you pinned in the back if you catch my drift.
I'll leave you with this my baby. You're the champeeeen, that is true.. and I'm apparently the novice, or so the card I've been dealt by you. Now, that is not troublesome to me, nor do I truly give it any second thought.. because we all know the first defense of your illustrious reign shall be your last.
(Fade Out)