Eric thanks tbe bell boy for bringing the suitcase up from the lobby, and tips him a twenty from his wallet. The boy gets excited, but then realizes that it is in Canadian currency, as he throws the bill back into the room. He sarcastically thanks Eric for the money, and then storms off, stomping his feet on the floor as he walks back towards the elevator. Eric picks up the twenty which was thrown on the floor and slides it back into his pants pocket. He shuts the door to his room just as we hear the ding of the elevator. He walks back into the lounge portion of his hotel room and turns the television on. He changes the channel to Pro Wrestling Primetime, just as they are broadcasting the latest "The Zone" Zone Capone promo, which was cut just hours ago. Eric grabs a beer and sits down on the sofa as the promo begins.
After twenty minutes of unexciting wrestling mumbo-jumbo, Eric finally awakens from his partial daze which he was in from when Capone was on the screen. He gets up off the sofa, and walks into his kitchen. He searches through his food and finds a can of Spagetti. He opens the can, and places it into a pot, which he then places into the microwave. Eric hits the start button and the food begins to slowly cook. He starts to think about the things that "The Zone" Zone Capone had said about him, and begins to talk to himself.***
TXEB - Well, I've made it this far in the RWA World Title Tournament, but am I truly wanted here in the RWA? I mean, can I go toe to toe with the best of the best here? Capone is right, I'm not very big, I'm not a ten foot tall 1000 pound man, nor do I ever want to be. I am only six foot four, two-hundred sixty four pounds, and thats exactly how big I should be to have maximum speed and agility in the ring. I don't need to be huge just to win matches, it takes a little thing called conditioning as well. My size is perfect for my style of wrestling, because I need this size so that I can continue to build up my stamina, so I could outlast my opponents. These superstars that I am competing against, they are Renegades, but have I earned my wings yet? Have I progressed enough in my two matches to become a Renegade? I understand that these men live and die under the rules of Michael Pettis, and under his command, I believe that I can withstand the baddest of them all, and truly gain in this federation...to finally become, a Renegade.
Just watching "The Zone" Zone Capone on that television set, brought back a gigantic fear, a phobia if you will, that I had back when I was beginning wrestling. You see, him, and his little friend, they were shooting off vibes from the T.V. set that I have had trouble fighting before. Capone, you brought back my "Xtreme" fear of homosexuals. That's right, I used to be a firm believer in being a straight shooting guy...and I still do, because homosexuals would frighten the daylights out of me. I am very homophobic, and you bring that fear back Capone. The way you look at your little friend, the way that you allow normal men off the street to take pictures of you as you flex, it just scares me. I have an inside instrument that I created because of this fear, I named it "gaydar" and you have been setting off this machine ever since I saw you debut here in RWA.
I'll admit it right now, I'm scared of you Capone, not only because you can lift three-hundred pounds, don't get me wrong, that is impressive, but the fact that you are emitting this strange rays of homosexuality at me, that is what scares me. Now, to clear up a legal issue that might occur from this, I'm not prejudiced against homosexuals, in fact, the only ones that actually stir up this phobia of mine, are the ones that try to deny their sexuality. If you went and asked Capone if he was gay right now, I'd almost gaurentee that he would say, "Where did you hear that from? I'm not gay." and then more than likely, he'd begin to freak out and send you away from his room. That is what scares me, he is denying it so much, that it leaks out from his body, which makes me totally afraid going into this match.
Now Capone, I know that you've devoted your life to "hardcore body-building" as you call it, being able to bench more than your own weight is pretty impressive, but why on Earth would you want to make yourself so built-up that you can barely move? I mean when you go to sleep at night, does your muscle just flood over your head and choke you out? You couldn't have possibly done this for a girl, or many girls for that matter, unless you thought that being a muscle-bound moron could get all the women in the audience (or men for this matter) to like his short, Swedish ass because he has large muscles? Give me a break! Women don't dig that man, they dig a guy who would fly off a ladder and crash through something else and walk away from it. Live by the motto, Pain heals, Chicks dig scars, and glory lasts forever.
Speaking of glory, you've probably never felt more glory than becoming Mr. Sweden, King Body-Builder before have you Capone? I mean seriously, do you think a body-builder would last very long in the ring with a true wrestler? No, I'm not talking about last weeks match with Jake Keeton you dumbass, I'm talking about a real wrestler, maybe the RWA Universal Champion, "Unable to Handle" Jay Gamble, or maybe even Shawn Walsh? To hell with it, why not step into the ring with me, "Too Xtreme" Eric Badger? Well, you have me on Sunday Night, that's right. The games are over, it's time to call the family from the dining room into the living room to watch some good, wholesome wrestling while eating a Sunday dinner.
Capone, you disgusting, bald, poor excuse for a human being, you should get your facts straight. If you went out to the crowds, and asked them who they were here to see, what do you think they would say? No, not "We're zoned out" or anything along those lines, but something more along the lines of, "It's Time To Get Xtreme, Bitch!" You got it Capone, all the "Xtremists" that I have out in the crowds around the world aren't here to see your Swedish Peanut eating ass, they flock from all areas to watch "the Xtreme One" perform in that ring. You are just a small stepping stone in my path from becoming the RWA World Champion, a small pebble in my way from going onto the final four. So pull your head out of your ass, so that you can see the referee raising my arm in the air, and moving on to the Third round of this tournament will be none other than me, because from body-building to wrestling is nothing, it's like going from a highway to a dirt road, because when its all said and done, your ride to the pride of the RWA World Title is going to be a bumpy one, so strap on your seatbelt, not your rubber dildo for your little midget friends, and hit the gas, because when "The Xtreme One" gets in gear, you're going to be left behind, laying face down in the middle of the ring, after the One...Two...Three. The RWA World Title Tournament does need us stinkin' Badger's, because without me, there would just be a younger, less talented roster to kick your ass, other than an old fart like myself. Come Sunday, your ass is grass, and I'm gonna roll you, light you up, and smoke you like that pansy ass bitch that you are!
***The microwave beeps as Eric's dinner finishes cooking. He takes it out, walks back into the lounge, plops down on the sofa, and watches some more high quality promos from Pro Wrestling Primetime. He finishes eating his meal, takes the dishes to the sink, and walks into his bedroom. He grabs the suitcase that was taken up to his room by the bell boy, and he places it on the table. Inside is a pair of purple and white, zebra striped tights, along with matching gloves, and a note inside. It Reads:
Dear Eric,
I hope that my wrestling gear will bring you good luck, as much as it has for me over the past few years. I am sorry that I cannot be there for your next match, but in due time, I'll be back in your corner, ready for you to kick even more ass than you already are. Use my gear to its fullest extent, and the crowd will be behind you more than they are right now. Christie and I wish you the best of luck in your travels, and we will be watching the next edition of Sunday Night Explosion. We're all rootin' for you trooper, so get the job done on that Swedish asshole, and move it on over to the final four.
Peace and Love, your brother, "The Nitemare" Rob Osbourne
P.S. Even though I've retired, it doesn't mean that I've lost the passion for everything that pro wrestling has given me. It's time that I give back to the job that I love most dearly in this world. Stay healthy Eric, because I'll be back in your corner, as soon as negotiations follow through with Pettis. Later Dude!
-NRO
***Eric grabs the gear out of the suitcase and places it in his wrestling duffelbag as he opens the door to his room. He steps out, and walks toward the same elevator that the bell boy stormed down the hall to as the scene fades to black.***
FTB