[We open this promo in a generic locker room, because I have no imagination. Sat on a bench, with his glasses steamed up, is Rubba Ray Drudley. He is looking at a glossy Kay Fabe poster which has her pointing her derriere at the camera (he probably picked it up at the Crap Zone or something… maybe you should go there too and spend some money). He reaches his hand out to touch the printed ass and caress the paper.]
RRD: So close…
[All of a sudden D-Van barges into the room dragging a table along behind him.]
D-Van: Hey, what the hell are you doing?!
[Rubba quickly stuffs the poster into his pocket and folds his arms over his lap.]
RRD: What are you doing with that table?
D-Van: Didn’t you see what that purple tights wearin’ fruit Sir Zeno did to me on Sunday?
RRD: No, I don’t watch your matches if I’m not in them.
D-Van: That bitch knocked me unconcious, I had to go to the hospital.
RRD: Dude, a black guy getting knocked out by a white guy in a boxing match is totally pathetic.
Voice: Well, well, well.
(A chubby guy with a neckbrace and an exposed, hairy chest enters the Drudley locker room.)
Joel Bertner: It is I, the quintessential studcrumpet, the footlong hotdog between your girl’s buns, she took one bite and had mustard all over her face, Joel Bertner.
RRD: What do YOU want?
JB: I got those Kay Fabe pictures you wanted.
D-Van: Don’t you have enough of those already, you’d probably get in trouble if the wrong people found out how many of them you have.
RRD: No I wouldn’t, I have plenty of other pictures too, I’m not obsessed or anything.
[One of the locker doors bursts open with a wave of pictures of the red headed sports entertainer.]
RRD: They’re not mine!
JB: Whatever. Anyway, what’s the table for D-Van?
D-Van: Don’t any of you motherfuckers watch my matches?
JB: Actually I did, I was bored and drunk. Sir Zeno is way more over than you and an actual champion, you’re just a goofy parody that’s a few beers away from a Reverend D-Van gimmick.
JB: Nothing, I’m just trying to convince you to focus on more important things. You’re on the road to Grudge Match A-Go-Go… you could win the NGETFA tag titles and you just sit around drinking beer and looking at pictures of Kay Fabe.
D-Van: You know, you’re right. We should be training.
[Small Tyke Drudley convulses his way through the door.]
RRD: We need to start training and need you to practice putting people through tables. D-VAN… GET THE…
D-Van: I already set it up.
RRD: Ok, let’s get started.
[We fade out with splinters flying at the camera as Tyke is thrown through the first of many tables.]