(The Great and Pete Trable are sitting in The Great’s dinning room. They’re at the table surrounded by various trinkets to construct what looks like an elementary school project. Cardboard. Glitter. Elmer’s® glue sticks. More construction paper of different colors. Faux rubies and diamonds. And leather. )
The Great: The trick is to make Dr. Plants think he’s in a title match to WIN belts instead of lose them. Then he’ll choke. And we’ll capture the titles!
Pete: Yo, dis glue stinks. Can’t we just kick dey ass, yo?
The Great: The Great has done research. The Great knows Dr. Plants has a history of dropping the proverbial ball when titles are at stake. If you and The Great can make SMP think our titles are better and on the line—
Pete: I get you, dogg. Yo, Nick, hook a bruddah up wit some more glit.
Nick: You’re using all my glitter! MOM!
The Great: Johnny, any suggestions on how to make these championship belts more presentable? Aren’t you kindergartners doing stuff like this all the time?
Little Johnny: Please, Father. You know I’m only in kindergarten due to my age restrictions. I don’t participate in “their little projects.” I’m there because I have to be. Otherwise, you could easily bypass me to college sophomore where I could be, right now, fratting with some co-eds instead of doing this juvenile project with you Neanderthals.
The Great: That didn’t answer The Great’s question.
Little Johnny: Well then it’s simple. More glitter.
Pete: Hey yo, ain’t we gonna get in trouble fo’ creatin’ our own titles an’ shit?
The Great: The Great doesn’t think so. This is under different circumstances. This is borne of necessity, not ego driven. Steve Studnuts will not sell our moves. Plants is the key to our success. Show him the titles, whisper to him while calling spots that they’re at stake, and watch him crumble. It’s foolproof.
Little Johnny: Simpletons. You lesser species really amuse me.
Nick: Dad? What are co-eds?
Little Johnny: What a dolt! Are you positive that he and I are from the same Breeder? I want a DNA test done.
The Great: Boys, stop that! The Great and Pete must concentrate. Formulate.
Little Johnny: Your brains, they do hibernate.
Pete: YO! I ‘bout to pop a tiny little cap in yo’ tiny little—-
The Great: MORE GLITTER!