(The Great is at his dinner table, surrounded by his family and Pete Trable. This isn’t a fable. Join them to eat if you’re able. Big Daddy V used to be Mable. Scene set-up written by Pete Trable.)
“The Great”: Pete, that was terrible! The Great is moments away from the biggest match in The Great’s career, The Great needs to squeeze in a killer promo to tilt the booker’s decision to The Great’s favor, and you start us off with a weak, lame intro.
Pete: Yo, it’s what was on the index card. I be gettin a lot of lame ass index cards lately, yo.
The Great’s wife: Pete! There’s kids at the table!
Pete: Sorry, ma’am. Could you pass some of that Roast Beef flavored Top Ramen?
The Great’s wife: Certainly! I slaved over this all evening, I hope you enjoy!
“The Great”: Slaved? There’s not even any meat in this!
The Mother in Law: Whah whah whuh whuh WHAH.
“The Great”: What? The Grand Slam match is already written so all this is a watse of time? What are you talking about?
The Mother In Law: Whah whah whah WHUH WHUH WHUH whahwhah whuh.
“The Great”: You read a message in Vent Your Spleen on the Brawlers on a Budget forums? This promo is useless because the outcome is already decided?
The Mother in Law: whuh.
Pete: Steve Studnuts already did a promo, yo. Prior to any messages on the Vent, knowwhatI’msayin? He gonna take it.
“The Great”: Nonsense, that is only possible by assuming the match is predetermined, written and saved on a hard drive somewhere, just waiting to get posted on a website, and that The Great is not flying out Tuesday night, BACK to UnFOURgiven to compete in the main even after having to fly out there once already to do a run-in during Part 1.
The Great’s wife: YEAH! The better reimbuse you for flying out there twice!
Lori: Dad? What’s a run-in?
“The Great”: The Great had to save Pete at the end of his match, because Axl INSISTof having a program with The Great and is doing everything in his power to make it happen. He called The Great non-stop for several days trying to get Nick involved in his storylines and wanting to work The Great in a main event feud. The Great wonders what made Axl think he was main event worthy. The Great said The Great wasn’t interested, thanks but no thanks and Axl persisted. The Great finally had to ignore Axl because everytime The Great tried to politely decline, Axl would come back and contradict everything he said to The Great the previous time and ask again. The Great still said no, and now The Great is running off Axl and Steve Roydz with a chair and staring at Axl like The Great wants to throw down. Needless to say, this happened on the portion of UnFOURgiven that Axl is booking. The Great is not happy with this.
Pete: YOU?! I had to take a superkick from that pillah bitah and play dead, yo!
“The Great”: The Great feels your pain. Axl, read The Great’s lips:
The Great is not interested in feuding with you! The Great is trying to concentrate—-
on the Grand Slam Finale.
With you, The Great wishes not to associate.
Your punch lines are 5 seconds too late.
The feelings are turning to hate.
Apologize, before it’s too late.
Pete: Yo, that wasn’t half bad for a white guy.
Little Johnny: Quite lovely. May we please eat dinner now? My stomach is churning like the tides of a tsunami and I have a multitude of tasks to complete before bedtime.
Nick: Ah, you don’t have nothing to do!
The Great’s wife: Boys! Don’t start that at dinner!
Little Johnny: I DO have something to do, the Father asked me to accomplish a little job for him. With pinpoint accurate GPS coordinates, a sattelite beam refracting light off Uranus—
The Great’s wife: JOHNNY!
Little Johnny: —-and a smidge luck, it just might work.
“The Great”: You’re that confident, son?
Little Johnny: Why, yes, sperm donor. The luck is the tricky part, but I think I can arrange it that the next time Axl goes to type an angle with him and you, and we’ll know this by a device counting precise keystrokes, his hands will evaporate.
“The Great”: That would be great.
Nick: Ha! Less of him to hate!
Pete: Yo, he could no longer masturbate.
Lori: T.M.I., Pete! That’s T.M.I.!