(FADE IN: The locker room of the Birmingham-Jefferson County Coliseum. King Krusher is sitting on a bench shirtless with a towel wrapped around his neck and the PCX Title placed beside him. He is staring off at nothing in particular looking battered and bruised but none the worst for wear. He does not look particularly happy after his first championship win in over 6 years. He turns to the camera and speaks)
KING KRUSHER: I guess I should be a little more festive after my big title win, but something is really gnawing at my insides about how everything went down tonight. I'm very satisfied that I was able to give Peter File his "good luck charm". I'm quite content with securing this here championship. (holds up the title to the camera) But what I'm REALLY having a hard time with is the way everything played out.
(K.K. stands up and continues speaking as he towels off his wet hair)
K.K.: I'm more than a little perturbed that a simple wrestling match was turned into a complete FARCE with the presence of midgets, Michael Jackson impersonators and "Jesus Juice." I'm used to beating my opponents in the middle of the ring with a 3-count instead of forcing someone to drink what looked like a combination of rat piss and Kool-Aid. And speaking of piss, never have I ever had to deal with wrestling amid the threat of slipping in a puddle of midget urine. I mean seriously, who in their right mind thought all of this was a good idea? Does the New Era of WFW have anybody in power who might have taken a second of rational thought to determine that all of this NONSENSE might distract from a wrestling match between two capable competitors? Yes, I know Payne called the shots as champion and wanted this type of match and I agreed to it. But never did I think it would be taken this far.
(K.K. throws the towel down and picks up his shirt but continues talking before he puts it on)
K.K. Payne, you gave me one hell of a fight out there and showed me that you do indeed have some heart. If you didn't request such a ridiculous circus for a match stipulation, I might even have a little bit of respect for you. I'm willing to grant you a title rematch, but obviously, next time we go by MY rules. And my rules are going to be steeped in tradition with the only point being to encourage competition and the best match possible. Think it over. That is, if you can deal with not having 10,000 distractions at ringside.
(K.K. pauses to put his black polo shirt on takes a look at his newly-won title belt)
K.K.: And then just a little while ago, Chaos gets in my face rambling on about how he built this title up with blood, sweat and tears and using the ultra-original insult of calling me an old man. Chaos, you are a sideshow FREAK. Another bump machine looking to impress spot vampires who wouldn't know a good wrestling match from a matchstick. You've mastered the art of inflicting pain on yourself because you LACK the skills to actually compete in a legitimate wrestling contest without resorting to crap like hitting someone with a barbed wire baseball bat. Well, Chaos...I'm gonna be the one to shove that bat UP YOUR ASS. SIDEWAYS. The only reason I didn't knock all your teeth out back there is because I already met my punk-out quota for the night on File. And the fact that I actually like your older brother. Get in my face like that again and I'll pummel you all the way back to him and prove that you're just living in his shadow.
(K.K. throws the PCX belt over his shoulder and slowly walks to the exit)
K.K.: And then we come to my next opponent, Trevor Cane. Mr. Cane decided to get involved in my match tonight and I've already heard a few murmurs back here that he actually HELPED me win this belt. (slaps the gold plating) Amusing as it was to see how ridiculous he looked dressed up as a Michael Jackson impersonator, I am NOT amused by the fact that he had the balls to stick his nose in where it didn't belong. You got an issue with Payne? Take it up in the parking lot or back at the hotel. Mistake #1 was interfering in MY title match. As if dealing with that three-ring circus of a match wasn't enough, my win had to be tainted by someone with a vendetta who went about settling it in the wrong way...which put me in a very bad mood. And he's going to pay for it. Apparently this is going to be a non-title match, and in all their wisdom, the top brass decided to make this a tables match. Well, that suits me fine. If I have to put you through a pile of kindling to prove a point, then so be it. You're gonna pulling splinters out of your ass for a week, Cane. And you better pray that is the LEAST of your health concerns after I'm done with you. I'll see you in Memphis, Cane...and you WILL be singing the blues after your humiliating DEFEAT.
(Just then, Steve Johnson and Tyler Houston walk in to congratulate Krusher on his big win and they depart to get a taste of Birmingham's nightlife before leaving town tomorrow morning. FADEOUT)
