The camera opens inside a promo booth in Classic Wrestling’s taping studio. A flamboyant man stands in front of the company’s logo, sporting in a mauve mask with a mullet poking out of the top, an untied satin robe, and the eyes of a madman peering through two pink hearts.
“Salutations to the ladies and not-so-ladylike; I am the man who’ll make love to you as well as he makes love to the mic. Hide your sisters, hide your mothers, hide your significant others, because The Undercover Lover is feelin’ sweet between the sheets! I’m not here to make rivalries, I’m here to make revelry. I make love, not friends. Will that earn The Lover a few enemies? Maybe, but infamy beats obscurity any day! First on Lover’s list is a man that lives an almost parallel life to The Lover’s; He’s got stops to make all over town and women to pick up at each one, and he doesn’t mind taking on more than a few at a time OH HAVE MERCY! I’m talkin’ about the transient titan, the man who puts robust in bus, none other than the distended man with an extended van; Double Decker. Now Double Decker means something different in my neck of the woods than it does to our grotesquely ginormous greyhound. Where I come from a Double Decker is when you skip to the lou to do a number two, drop the seat and the lid and squat like somethin’ hid, and then you open up the tank and drop in somethin’ stank! Is that what you are, Double Decker? Are you a bowel void that’s meant to be found by the annoyed? The top shelf stool of an April fool? A stowaway that takes the bowl’s glow away? No, you’re something worse aren’t ya? You’re a chunky grease monkey who hasn’t seen his toes since who knows? Now The Lover’s worried about the state of his enormous enroute enemy for the evening. He’s scared for his well-being because Lover doesn’t know if his heart can take the sight of such a pristine, clean, lovin’ machine like your mamma’s favorite weekend Uncle, UCL. Don’t get Lover wrong; he doesn’t mind breakin’ a few hearts or burning a few tarts, but The Undercover Lover doesn’t want to become known for manslaughter because he’s a lethal heart-throbber. I’ve taken women’s breath and made them shiver with little deaths, and I’ve made bruised angels bend knee and cry at the utterance of goodbye, but when it comes to punching a bus in the heart? Well, The Lover’s not sure if it’ll restart. Will the chop shop be this big rig’s final stop? Will it be decommissioned after I give it a busted transmission? And more importantly of all, after Decker takes the fall; will the lady’s love your’s truly when he’s taken a life so cruelly? The Lover doesn’t know which way that wind will blow, but one thing’s for certain if Double Decker were to have died; The Undercover Lover doesn’t mind givin’ the lady’s a free ride OH HAVE MERCY!”
A woman suddenly crosses the screen, catching The Lover’s attention as she glances back with a giggle and then keeps moving. Lover’s body tenses up as his lust filled eyes cut back to the camera and he starts tying his robe.
“Enough with the poems, enough with the rhyming; even though I have impeccable timing. The Lover looks at a man like Double Decker and sees an all-american dud who works his fingers to the bone and acts like he makes a difference. You have a harrowing innocence about you that makes me believe that you became a bus driver because it was the only way you’d ever be able to truthfully say you picked up a chick. While you’re sitting in the driver’s seat, I’m sitting in the lap of luxury while someone’s old man’s out getting smokes. Who needs integrity and job security when there’s always money on the nightstand? Who needs 9-to-5 civil servitude when a fun 2 hours will put smiles on faces? Why be a double decker ham & egg sandwich when you can be an open-faced tuna melt? These are the questions that keep me up at night, and soon enough, so will Double Decker’s widow. Oh. Have. Mercy!”
Lover winks at the camera and then makes a beeline in the direction of the woman who walked through the shot as the camera fades to black.