[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants and Nurse Heidi are seen milling around the outside walkways of The Alamo Dome in San Antonio, Texas, along with thousands of other fans in a mixed sea of Memphis, Carolina, UCLA, and Kansas blue. Well, all except for Dr. Plants, who’s wearing a homemade, iron-on lettered t-shirt that reads, “I’m a famous pro wrestler, ask for my autograph.” Nurse Heidi sports her own non-team affiliated shirt, cut to show her midriff, with the phrase “You looked better on MySpace” stretched across her bosom. Neither one of them seem very happy waiting in a very long line for a generic three-point challenge.]
NH: Wow, this line is almost as long as…
SMP: HOLD ON! Let me fill in the blank. Since douja’s last RP?
NH: How about the debut of TNA !MPLOSION!? Are you sure they’re not calling that one Chinese Democracy?
SMP: How about, longer than Sir Hungalot’s wiener?
NH: (double takes) What? How would you know?
SMP: Hey, I’ve seen his movies. 10,000 inches B.C. is pretty good. The Bank Blow Job, Drillbit Nail Her, The Great Master Debaters, and Leather Dickheads are all must see.
NH: Well, don’t see There Will Be Blood (The Red Willy Saga). It’s really gross. Can’t we have three days out of the month without somebody wanting it?
SMP: I dunno. I wouldn’t think that you’d take three off.
NH: Yeah, you’re probably right. HEY! We moved a step up, but this line is still as long as…
SMP: The time between now and Axl’s last entertaining promo?
NH: Huh? He had one?
SMP: Well, no. Not really. Well… there was that one time…. nah.
NH: You should really quit picking on Axl. You better concentrate on your !MPLOSION! opponent. Wasn’t it Pete Trable?
SMP: Yeah. But he’s suspended. I think they might let him come back for the match and then suspend him again.
NH: Looks like they’d just make him wrestle and not pay him.
SMP: What punishment is that? They do that anyway.
NH: I know, right?!
[They high five.]
SMP: Hey, getting back to Axl. It’s a shame his last promo was just an April’s Fools prank. At least, I think it was. Or, it could have been just a lame way to get his Russo character back in BOB. Which would totally suck. By the way, did you notice that picture of Russo? Is it just me, or were his hands bigger than his head?
NH: I don’t know, I didn’t look at it.
SMP: Well you should. Pffft. Russo. Some people just never learn.
[Two teenagers approach the tandem, scraggly looking dudes, one with a greasy ponytail and the other with a Von Erich looking “hasn’t been cut in about 2 ½ years” shag. Neither looks to be very high on the evolution chain. The first kid reads Plants’ shirt, which is an accomplishment in its own right.]
Ponytail: So, you’re a famous pro wrestler? Which one?
NH: Heh. He’s not really a famous wrestler, he just plays one on television.
Shaggy guy: You must be rich or something, dude. How does an old guy like you get a hot chick like that?
SMP: I’m not that old.
Ponytail: Dude, you’re fucking old.
SMP: Language. Please? You’re in the presence of a lady.
Shaggy: Lady? Shit, she looks like she could suck a bowling ball through a fucking Hardee’s straw, brah. That ain’t no lady, she’s a damned skanky ho bag. She could probably suck a… dude, what’s really big?
Ponytail: A glacier, dude! Say a glacier!
Shaggy: Yeah, she could probably suck a glacier through a garden hose or something.
NH: I can.
Ponytail: Fucking-A, dude!
NH: But I only suck his, cause he’s hung like a horse. Run along, little boys.
Shaggy: Whoooooah! Fucking cool, man! Can I have your autograph?
[He signs both guy’s t-shirts with a readily available Sharpie®.]
Ponytail: Thanks, man!
Shaggy: Yeah, brah. Thanks, dude.
[They stumble away, barely audibly gloating about getting “Sir Hungalot’s” autograph.]
SMP: Thanks for speaking up back there. You didn’t have to make like you’ve given me oral to avoid a confrontation. I could’ve handled them. Both if necessary. I was a former STWF InterGalactic champion, you know.
NH: Sil, I could’ve handled them! I just wanted to see the looks on their faces when I said that. Guys that age almost cream their pants when a woman talks to them that way.
SMP: Their age? Hell, I almost did too.
NH: Oh, that’s sweet.
[There’s a moment or two of uncomfortable silence.]
NH: Ummm. So, hey? Wanna bet 10 dollars on who hits the most three pointers?
SMP: Yeah. But can you spot me 10? Final Four tickets aren’t that cheap these days. Not to mention the plane tickets to get here…
NH: How about this? You win and I’ll show you my tits.
SMP: Heidi, I’ve seen your boobs probably a thousand times. Didn’t you know that Barry and Garry drilled a peephole that went from the break room to the women’s locker room back at County General?
NH: You peeked at me back then?
SMP: Duh, I’m a man.
NH: Now that’s really sweet! Thanks!
SMP: Ahem. Don’t mention it. Really, it’s okay.
NH: But that was so long ago! Why haven’t you said anything about that until now?
SMP: I didn’t really think it was that big of a deal. You’re an attractive woman, I think. You’re naked and walking around. The boys drilled a hole in the wall. I’m a man. Yeah, I’m going to look.
NH: Oh my god. I so wish you would’ve told me back then. I had such a crush on you when I first started working there.
SMP: Ummm, where is this going?
NH: I don’t… know.
SMP: Business and pleasure don’t mix.
NH: It could.
SMP: It’s doesn’t. Dipping the pen in company ink…
NH: There’s exceptions…
SMP: It’s a no-no.
NH: What are you saying? You wouldn’t want to have….
Nasty Carnie Guy: STEP RIGHT UP! HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! You got 30 seconds to hit as many three pointers as you can for the GRAND PRIZE! Hit eight in 30 seconds, take your pick of jersey!
NH: ….with me?
SMP: It’s your time to shoot. Good luck!
NH: But what about?
SMP: You’re holding up the line! And the promo was pre-arraigned to last only as long as it took us to get to the basketballs. We’re out of time!
NH: Oh no! You’re not going to get off that….