Minnesota is a land of extremes, well, not really extremes, but it does have interesting people and interesting weather, the Entourage and a fourty degree blizzard seem to fit in nicely.  The camera sparked and spat to life to find the great blonde Pollock, Ole Christianson, hunched as much forward as allowed by his great belly and squinting enough to make one wonder if he were even looking at all.  His thick tounge hung out the side of his mouth in an oddly cainine fashion as his childish bulk took up the screen.  Out of the picture Kevin “Killer” Kobalski could be heard murmering on about how hard it was to wire the camera right.

 

          “You sure it’s working Ole?”

 

          “Well the red light’s on, what else could it be?”  Ole tapped the screen as if that little contact would tell him what’s what.

 

          “Lemme see,” Killer moved into view, thus blocking Ole’s own view of the road and Killer smirked as he was shoved back out of view by one great ham of a hand, “I told you it’d be awesome, it’s just like the movies, now all we need is the car sounds!”

 

          “Killer,” Ole said as if addressing a child, “The car is running.  Ah, here we are!”  The car stoped in the white lands, nothing beyond the windows could be seen but the snow, but in a moment that didn’t matter, a black haired scraggly man in a baggy military special winter forces getup slid in swiftly.  “Hey Hack, you ready for the sands and sins?”  Ole asked as he put the car into gear with a jerk.  The man lifted a duffle bag and nodded, “Aight,” said Ole, “We got a little over a week to pull this off bud.  Seems like we’ve been over looked.”

 

          “We?”  Began a rocky baritone voice questioningly, “There’s no ‘we’ in it.  It’s me, Hack, and my entourage, that’s you.  Yeah, I’ve been overlooked, but that’s fine by me, I like the element of surprise.”

 

          “Okay,” This time an annoying tenor voice piped through, “You got the tag-team match coming up Saturday, that’s really going to be a joke.  I know you don’t like to underestimate things bro, but in this case I don’t even think you’re going to get into the ring before those two tear each other up!”

 

          “Really, you’d do well to get your hands on Taverna if you can, he’s the one to knock down if you want the attention around here, but you know, you could find the whole WWA’s eyes directly on you if you make Marc fall.  Then again, Hack, McCarthy might be helpful in the long run so…” Killer got cut off as his brother, Hack, made his own presence known.

 

          “Kev, don’t be thinking about the tag match, it’s just another night, all I care about right now is finding Devins face up on the mat as the ref counts ‘One, Two, Three!’.  You see, Taverna’s an ass, but he’s not the ass I have to worry about, Bryan can take care so far as that goes.  I’m not concerned about McCarthy cause he’s certainly not interested in me, he’s even more after Taverna than Desolation is!”

 

          “So, on to Devins, you know, I was really thinking… he ought to wear a bag over his face, I mean, he’s enough of a target the way he runs his mouth, maybe a bag would muffle the sound.  At the very least it’d keep the public from seeing his strech marks.  You can’t tell me those aren’t strech marks around his mouth, look at him!  That may be lame, but that’s all Jake had to say, can’t I say it too?”

 

Hack leaned in, blocking Ole’s view but in the whiteout conditions it really didn’t matter.

 

          “Every video I can find of Devins is really disappointing, I gotta say that.  I mean, the guy reads like a ‘Wheres Waldo?’ out on the mat and what he’s got to say isn’t much better.”  Ole and Killer chuckled at the thought, but realized that they themselves always had a hard time finding Waldo, “Yeah, I tuned in for his latest stuff… really, Jake’s like a can of Spam, you bite in and wonder what will come first: the disgust once you realize you’ve sunk that low as to bite in, or the tingle just before the heart attack!  If he had to put an ingredient list on each one of his vids it’d read ‘3% protein, 97% super saturated fat, 2500 calories per spoonful’  it’d probably even say ‘Caution, may cause birth defects in older men and middle aged women may be caused to lose their hair.’”

 

The very cheek that maggots had begun their way through was shown clear as Hack swept back his hair and began to grin an almost sorrowful grin.

 

          “You know, I really think that Jake is trouble, in the mind that is.  He obviously has a problem seeing right and wrong, and that whole ‘I’m a cocky bastard but everyone should pity me because someone out did my bastardly ways’ thing has really got to go.  So bud, I know a number for you to call when you wake up the twentieth without that title.  Jake, you’re right about one thing, you are ratings.  See, people tune in whenever you’re around because they hope you’re going to get knocked down, and when I do that, that makes me ratings, but ratings that have a meaning to them.”

 

Finally, Hack pointed to the camera, his blue eyes glistening as the car began to waver.

 

          “Man, I’m just glad you know enough to take off after you lose that belt, security blankets like that are hard to give up, but it’s for the best.”

 

          Ole cried, “Shit… shit. Shit Shit. Shit!” as the car’s wavering turned more and more violent until a crunch was heard and the car stopped.