-- Ah, Christmas. The time of the year where small children behave like little angels to try and make up for a year of deliquency. The time when parents venture out into the cold, shell out all of their hard earned money on the latest plastic battery powered craze, and are prepared to destroy anyone that stands in their way of a merry Christmas. It's such a magical time. Everything seems different when Christmas draws near. The roads overflow with mini-vans and station wagons. The malls are transformed into battlegrounds. Normally nice and pleasant people change into violent, gift grabbing, people pushing monsters all in the name of holiday cheer. Makes ya' feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside, huh? --

-- Now that the mood is properly set, let's join your friend and mine, Scott "The Sh*t" Tokage, as he enjoys a chaotic Friday evening at the mall. The camera fades in on Scott in a mall in Minneapolis. He is squeezing his way through the hordes of people, looking for a few gifts for some of his new collegues. He manages to push his way into an open area and begins to speak. --

Scott: Whew! Man it's brutal out here. The EWA should scout the malls for new talent. There are some pretty tough mommas in this place. Any one of them would be more than a match for my opponents this Saturday.

-- Scott smiles at his own joke and continues. --

Scott: He, he. Anyway, let me tell what I'm doing out here. I know what you're probably thinking... "Scott, you're crazy! In a mall a week before Christmas? On a Friday?!" Don't worry, true believers, I'm a big boy. I can take whatever these loonies dish out. Besides, I thought in the spirit of the season I'd pick up a little something for my opponents in the Light Heavyweight Battle Royal. It's the least I can do since I'll be the one carrying all that gold away from the ring Saturday. I wouldn't want anyone to leave empty handed. It just wouldn't be right.

Scott: You're also probably wondering why I have a cameraman with me, right? Well I'm gonna tell why anyway. See, the way I figured it this would be the perfect time to do one of my extremely informative and insanely entertaining interviews. Shopping can get pretty boring for me real quick, so by bringing a camera along I can keep myself entertained with my extraordinary wit. Brilliant, eh? Yeah, I thought so too. So... let's get started!

-- Scott once again dives into the mass of holiday shoppers. The camera lags behind a bit but catches up with our hero when he enters a shop named "Everything English". The place is nearly deserted except for the ancient man at the register. The store is covered in British flags, figurines of famous English landmarks, and loads of other crap associated with Europe. --

Scott: Might as well get the easy stuff over with first. Of course I'm talking about my good buddy Thorne Richards. He's both easy to shop for and easy to deal with in the ring. He proved that point rather convincingly this past Wednesday, wouldn't you say? And the Saturday before that as a matter of fact. Damn, when I think about it Thorne has pretty much sucked hardcore lately. Why should Saturday be any different? Well, it won't. One more loss for "Europe's Lamest Export" coming right up. But hey, Thorne old buddy old pal, don't cry. I'll get you something nice and new to dry up those tears of defeat.

-- Scott looks around the shop for something good to get Thorne. Not finding anything that catches his interest, Scott goes to the old man at the cash register. --

Scott: Hey, old guy. Can you help me out? I'm looking for a gift for this English guy I know. I'm looking for something really British and stuffy. You know, like a tea set or Big Ben wristwatch or something. Got anything like that? Mister? HEY, MISTER!!

-- The old man looks up startled as if he didn't know anybody was there. He puts on some glasses, lets his eyes adjust, and turns his hearing aid on. Ever so slowly he begins to speak. --

Old Guy: What's that, lad? I couldn't hear you.

Scott: I said I need a gift for some English bastard I know.

Old Guy: Well, that's not very nice, lad, but I'll see what I can do for you. How about a framed picture of the Queen? It's very lovely and...

Scott: Naw, I was thinking something more along the lines of toilet paper with the British flag printed on it or something. Something useful.

Old Guy: Humph! We don't carry that particular item. If it's flags you're looking for then we have a smashing British flag pillow. It's very soft and it's the...

Scott: Yeah that'll work. He can use that Sundday in the hospital.

-- Scott pulls out his Visa card, pays for the pillow, thanks the old man, and begins to walk out of the store in search of his next gift. --

Scott: Well, Thorne. I hope you like the gift. I know it won't be a surprise, but hey, it's the thought that counts. Speaking of which, I've been giving a lot of thought to what you said earlier about kicking the "soap box" from under my feet. Sorry to break it to you, but I never said that I was "above" anybody else. I have just stated the obvious fact that I'm physically better than a butt load of people in the EWA, a few of those people being KG, Feather, and even yourself. I'm sorry if you got a wrong impression, but you just can't match my skills in the ring and on the mic. Add that to your anger from what happened Wednesday, and you have yourself a bonafied loser of a European. Face facts, boy, you most definatly will be outdone by the same man twice in a row.

-- Scott now enters a store that carries household items such as cleaning supplies, books, and a wide variety of other knick-knacks. He looks the place over and nods. --

Scott: I guess that's enough about Thorne for now. On to the next contender. I think I could probably find something for Feather here.

-- Scott picks up a feather duster and his eyes light up for a second. He then thinks about it and puts the item down. --

Scott: Naw, that's too easy. I'm sure everybody out there saw that one coming. Hey, I've been accused of some bad puns in the past, but I'm not going near the feather duster bit. Too cheesy even for me.

Scott: What can I get for this guy though? Let's see. He obviously has expensive taste. A $400 shirt while chatting on the net?! And he's obviously not terribly bright. I mean why did you keep calling me "kid"? I happen to be a year older than you. But it doesn't matter. It really has no bearing on the match, does it? What does have a lot of bearing is your massive ego and foolish overconfidence. You're probably saying I'm one to talk, right? Well allow me to explain. See, you think that just because I'm in a tag team, a very powerful tag team, that I have no skills as a singles wrestler. You coundn't be further from the truth. What makes Big Time such a great tag team is the fact that Dave and myself are both excellent singles wrestlers. A lot of my training is done by myself. When I first learned how to wrestle it was by myself. Tag teaming is just a way to get one more strap around my waist.

Scott: Now, when I look at you I see a delusional man who looks for any excuse to make himself look big. I commend you on that, but I'd be willing to bet that you don't have the in ring ability to back up your boasts. I, on the other hand, do. I think you'll be in for a shock when I come at you Saturday. The Scott Tokage you speak of is nothing like the real thing. I'm gonna show you how I operate on my own. Not only am I going to steal your self proclaimed spotlight, but I'm gonna take the damn thing and smash it over your head. Then I'll throw you out... or let someone else do it. It makes no difference. I'm not greedy in that respect.

-- Something catches Scott's eye. It's one of those books that lists names for newborn babies. He smiles and purchases the book. --

Scott: This should be good for you, Feather. Maybe now you can find something better, a name that'll strike more fear into an opponent. Hell, "Bob" would be scarier than Feather. What, were you drunk when you thought that up? Anyway, I've got more shopping to do so just one last thing for you. Contrary to what you think, Saturday will only be the beggining of my singles fame. When you have gold around your waist you can't help but be famous, right?

-- Scott once more goes out into the crowd in search of the final gift. He looks and looks but can't seem to find anything to get for the "Corporate Outlaw". Eventually he sits down on a bench and tries to think. --

Scott: You're one tough S.O.B. to shop for, KG. Nothing really springs to mind. Hmmm... Well... Let me think... Hey! I've got an idea!

-- Scott heads directly toward the center of the mall. Children are lined up all the way out the front entrance waiting to sit on "Santa's" lap. --

Scott: Damn. The line is huge! I can't wait that long, I'll miss the match tomorrow.

-- Scott thinks for a second and then comes up with a cunning plan. He grins evily. --

Scott: Hey everybody! The toy store at the other end of the mall just got a shipment of Furbees! They only have fifteen left!

-- As soon as the words leave his mouth, all of the mothers in the vicinity stampede in the direction of the toy store, pushing, shoving, and trampeling anyone in their path. Scott laughs and struts right up to the front of the line. --

Scott: Stupid bastards. He, he, he.

-- Scott goes up and sits right down on Santa's right knee. Both he and Mrs. Claus look confused and a little annoyed. Scott just continues to smile. --

Scott: Hey there, Santa. How the Hell are 'ya?

Santa: Uh, sir? What are you doing?

Scott: Hey, I have just as much right to ask you a question as any of these punk kids do. So you just sit there and answer, all right?

Santa: Whatever. Make it quick.

Scott: Okay, here's the sitch. I've got a match tomorrow, a Battle Royal, and I need a present for one of the guys. He's a guy that goes by the name of "The Corporate Outlaw" KG. He's a pretty tough guy and he has a lot of backup from "The Corporate Empire". I don't think he'll be cheap enough to use them to help in the match, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did. I'll have my Big Time partner there to keep the interference at bay, though, so that shouldn't be that big of a deal.

Scott: He doesn't seem to be much of a threat to me in the match without his Empire buddies. He can talk big and act tough when he's next to his friends, but in that ring with three guys that want to beat the Hell out of him I don't see how he stands a ghost of a chance. Hell, if Thorne can beat his ass on numerous occasions like he claims, then I'll have no problem wiping the mat with his face.

Santa: You seem pretty confident.

Scott: Well, yeah I'm confident! Why not? KG, Thorne, Feather, not one of these nimrods can hold a candle to the out and out talent and pure determination that I posses. I'm ready for some Royal moron bashing action and those three are just the guys to fill that particular role. But, what about my question? What should I get the "Corporate Outlaw"?

Santa: I don't know. Why don't you put a bow around your foot and give him a jolly holiday butt kicking.

Scott: Santa! I'm impressed. That's a line fit for, well, not me, but it was pretty damn good.

Santa: I'm glad you liked it. Now get the Hell off my lap!

-- Santa pushes Scott off his lap. As Scott gets up and starts heading toward the mall exit we can hear a rumble growing louder and louder. Scott turns around confused, but his look soon changes to shock as he realizes what is making the sound. He sees about a hundred or so mothers running right in his direction. They look rather upset. They obviously didn't like being given the run-around by Scott. When they discovered there were no Furbees, they set out for revenge. Realizing this Scott bolts out the nearest exit and dashes for his car. He gets in and starts the engine as the women are just reaching him. They knock on the windows, jump on the hood, and scream at Scott. --

Scott: Get the Hell away from me!! Have some holiday cheer you crazy mothers! I just wanted to talk to Santa!

-- Eventually the women give up and Scott gets away. The camera fades to black as he heads for home to rest up from his grueling night of Christmas shopping. --

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