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| **The scne opens to find Rob Osbourne waking up in a daze at the "The River Suites at Club Continental" . As the bright afternoon Florida sun peaks through the blinds the telephone rings.** |
| NRO: Hello...hey Mendez. I feel like I've been chasing parked cars money. I'm going to be recovering for a few days at least... From what?!?! Jesus Ryan, you had me doing jello shots off of some stripper while Kyle was getting fucked wearing a god damned chicken suit! Yeah....didn't you find the note I left on the banana? Well, I was letting you know that you and Kyle will definitely be facing each other for that IC title, as I plan on taking care of Mr. Badger myself. Shoot, I'm listening.... Oh Lord man, most of it is a blank spot, last thing I remember was the fifteenth jello shot.... You Brits can hold your water, that's for sure. Hey, do you have a stuffed yak I could borrow? I want to put it on one of those cardboard cutouts of Hudson that I found in the dumpster behind IoA HQ when I quit that shite hole and play target practice with it in my bathroom if ya know what I mean.... Cheerio then gov'na! |
| **Rob hangs up the phone and sits up in the bed nude in a pile of sheets as he powers up his wireless laptop. He loads the AIW server and flips on his satelite link-up to the PWN studios and , hangover in tow, he decides to cut a promo on his upcoming debut match against Hudson. He lights a joint and twists the top on a Heineken from the mini bar as the link up is established just as he sits back down and covers himself with a sheet.** |
| NRO: Well, well, well, I am back, and as some would say, with a vengeance. Sure, I never really left, I just had to give my body a rest. Ya know, the old grey mare just ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be! Now it is official, and the paperwork is done. I am an official AIW 'stupidstar.' As that appears to be the only type of stars here. And to think I got sucked into investing a ton of cash on this place, and no return dividends have come forth...well, none that can be considered aggresive gain. So I did what I always do, I went to war on battle field red tape. What that little sweet assed Mz. Danky failed to realize in her fit of excitement, which by the way, I say was over being in the same room for the first time with the Superpimp, yours truelly, but Big D assures me it was over getting such a deep wallet to sign her little contract. Anywho, what she failed to do is a common mistake made by all rookie owners. She didn't read the fine print, which said that if I felt that in any way my capitol was being compromised in anyway, I had full authority to join the active roster. Call it flexing a little mental muscle, but I once again outsmarted the suits. So how do I officially start my in ring comeback? Against Hudson. Hmmm...interesting. I know you all are concerned about my well being, ever since that run in with Triple J and Reinhardt in IoA. But that's why I am playing it smart and starting off with a "light workout" in Hudson. But never fear, I have my eye on that sick freak that is from about thirty, thirty five miles southeast of me, Gabe Morrison. Gabe, if you get the big piece of cake, you can bet your ass I will be the first in line to lick the icing. But let us not lose our focus. Indeed, let us remian focused on the task at hand, however a random and miniscule one it is. Hudson. I do recall in a fed long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away you and your "buddy" and please, take any and all intended homosexual references to heart, Paul Blair couldn't seem to get the "W" over the Gravedigger or the Master Of Disaster. Now let us also note that on about 59 different occasions, under 15 different identities, I have ripped apart and stripped down the 'Digger until the only thing he could do was walk away from the game. Again let us observe the 1998 ZOO TV Universal Title Championship tournament , at which I thouroughly handed The Master his ass as no other had previously done. But for some reason you think you can take me on Hudson? I deal in fact and logic son, not dreams and fantasies. What you get with Rob Osbourne is If's and Then's, not maybe, and wow that'd be cool if that happened, no, no, no! Logic says you can't hang with either of the Warriors Of Darkness founders, and they couldn't hang with me, so that says, well, i think you get the picture. But I digress....perhaps you are amiss in thinking that there is a possibility of the age old cliche "any given Sunday" coming into play. I assure you Hudson, no need to worry about that, cause I'ma beat that ass Saturday afternoon, and Sunday, I'll be at your funeral. |
| **The camera focuses on Rob and his fiendish grin. As that image fades, a swirling graphic appears below it with Rob Osbournes catch phrase.. FTB** |
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