In this business, there are two select types of people. Those that choose to do professional wrestling for the money, and nothing else. And those that choose to do this for the pure love they have for it. Shane Douglas fits right into the first description, for his appearance has continually been based around himself and NOTHING else. Glamour and reputation - two things which Douglas' strives hard for, but although the arrogance of The Franchise can be somewhat overwhelming, he's without a single shadow of a doubt, a fine competitor. There's a fine line between Entertainment and Competition, and those that succeed and fail. It comes back to one thing; attitude. Do you take the business for granted, and use it for a platform to bigger and better things like The Rock? Or is your soul forever attached to your one true love? Think about it. You may not have a bank account containing 6 digits, but if you've got personal satisfaction, why should money matter? Come's back to one thing. Greed. Those that want more, and those that settle for what they are given. In All Pro Wrestling, Douglas conceeds that his aim is to become World Heavyweight Champion and to rake in every possible dollar he can get his hands on - after all, if that WASN'T your aim, why even bother? Thing is - Shane's been at the top of the mountain before. He's had to shread blood, sweat and tears every night of his LIFE to establish himself as one of the best this industry has ever laid eyes on. But the question being posed - is he past his prime? Has the horse already bolted, so to speak? Time will only tell. This Monday night on Raw Attitude, Shane Douglas will set foot in the squared circle against Frankie Kazarian - more or less, a rookie. Expectations are for this to be over within a matter of a few short minutes. Stranger things have happened, though. Tune in. The cameras begin rolling and we see Shane Douglas sitting silently in a steel chair. Not another man nor woman can be sighted. His head is lowered, his wrists are taped. Despite not being in full wrestling attire, he's seemingly not too far off getting back in the ring. Seconds tick by, and still nothing. No sound. No movement. Nothing. Eventually after another ten second haul, Douglas' voice whispers.

the franchise: " It's been long. Too long. See, I thought I'd take a break from the business and come back sometime later down the track. Why? For one simple reason. To be able to prove to each and every last one of you, that the direction in which this company is headed isn't all too bright. I've been saying it for years, and after all this time, it's as evident as it could possibly be. Heh. Hate to say it, limpwrists; but I told you so. "

I can't help but crack a smile. Despite my long absence from this crap, I haven't missed a beat.

the franchise: " You morons have been covering up the truth for the past four years. Slowly but surely, year by year, month by month, this once treasured sport of ours has decreased its standards. Believe it or not - there was ONCE a time where you had to actually have wrestling ability. Now days? Nah. You don't need to be able to wrestle. If you can go out there, talk a bunch of bullshit for five minutes and have the crowd boo your ass 'till the cows come home, then you're the new face of professional wrestling. That's how it works, and it makes me sick! "

Sometimes I wonder if they even understand a word that leaves my mouth. It's like, they are staring right at you - but nothing registers in their heads. I've been slamming this shit down their throats for a long time, and still, they live in a world of denial. Idiots.

the franchise: " Thing is, whilst all this is happening, you saps are oblivious to it. You're quite happy to sit back and be bored to the heavens above - why? Is it that you've given up hope? Is it that you've been brainwashed by the politics? Maybe, maybe not ... hell - it could be the fact that you're fucking braindead. "

Bet that hit a few nerves. Fuck 'em. They deserve it.

the franchise: " Regardless, I'm changing the face of professional wrestling. By doing that, it means takin' out the trash with rejects that aren't even worthy of shining my god damn boots, let alone putting themself in the same RING as me. The dull, boring matches are one thing I can't change, but rest assure, when The Franchise steps up to the plate your eyes are gonna be buldging out of your fucking heads ... and then ... heh ... then, you can call me your saviour for I am the ONE man that will provide a shining light in your miserable lives. You don't have to like it, but you'll learn to accept it .. because enough is enough .. I didn't take this business and MAKE it something for inbreds to come along and FUCK it up. From this point forward, boys; you're running on borrowed time. Think of it like it's a piece of meat. You cut the fat parts off the edge to leave yourself with a fine piece of meat. In All Pro Wrestling - it's gonna be no different. Week by week, I'll be cuttin' the excess slack that over the past few years, has dramatically dragged the sport along in the mud. It all begins now. It all begins, with a name, that means absolutely jack SHIT to me. Frankie Kazarian. Come to think of it - who in the fuck is that, anyway? "

I flash an arrogant smirk and allow a few seconds to tick by on the clock. It's perfect; it's all fitting into place. Damn - I knew I was great. Real great. But this? Ha'. It's too much. Really, it is. They ought'a make a Movie on me. Then again - that wouldn't be enough to sell my stardom to the globe. Nope. Definitely not.

the franchise: " Ya' know, Frankie, to put it plainly and simply; you're one of many standing between myself and that World Heavyweight Championship Belt. Think about it. Do you honestly believe I'm going to allow somebody like you, to roll me over? Ha-ha. Don't even answer me that one, kid. I'll spare you the embarrassment. (Smirks). If I wanted, I could pay some average limpwrist off the streets 5 bucks to make sure I never have to see your face again .. better yet - save that five bucks and give them some turbo fucking slut .. but you know what? I'm not going to. I'm not going to take the easy way out, because I intend on sending a message to the rest of the clowns in the locker room. What you and the rest of 'em have gotta realize is that you belong to me. I OWN your god damn souls, kid, and there ain't a thing you can do to prevent it. It's inevitable. It's a way ... of life! Succumbing to a man like me ain't got an ounce of shame, boy. Many have been down that path before, so don't think, for even the slightest part of a SECOND that it's not your destiny too. "

And they think Dick Flair is something worth talking about? Yeah, right. That old bastard couldn't even masturbate without sendin' a cramp down his fucking hamstring.

the franchise: " I don't know a thing about you Frankie, and I don't need to. I've fried fish bigger than you can ever imagine. Anything and everything in this business - I've DONE. I've set the heights of professional wrestling to a WHOLE new level, kid. What makes you think you've got a chance, huh? What makes you think you pop up from out of no-where, and defeat ME? ME!? I'am all for one being confident ... but Frankie ... you gotta' start setting your goals at a realistic reach because right now at the rate you're going, by the end of Monday Night you'll be lucky not to be six feet under. (Pauses) More or less - your ass ... is on a one way road .. to gettin' "

Talk about spectacles. None better than this, right here. I flash another cocky grin - because It's my trademark. It's what I do. Fists clenched, I stare deeply into the camera.

the franchise: " See ya' soon, pal. "

Fade to black.