The camera opens backstage where we find Haul leaning stoically against the wall and staring ahead as his brother Gnash repeatedly slams his head into the wall. Haul gives his masochistic brother an unworried glance, and then turns to the camera coldly.
Haul: Defeat is an entity my brother has never suffered at the hands of before, so excuse him as he expresses his frustrations. As for me? I don’t live in the past or fear the immediate future. Oh no no, but Classic Wrestling should fear our tomorrow.
Haul: I’ve seen the ring covered in debris. I visualized the ropes snapping and the turnbuckles departures from their homes at the corners of the ring. I’ve witnessed belts broken, dreams ripped asunder, and the canvas torn to shreds with primitive and angry crinkled fingers of men whom once called each other brother.
Haul: Before it all ends sacred symbols of Classic Wrestling will be blasphemously defaced. Men will feel true fear and existential dread. Women will shriek in horror of the abominations we shall wrought. All will come to pass as others strive to hold dominance as we pry it from their atrophied digits long after their faces have taken on a death mask of eternal fear.
After taking a charging start Gnash delivers one final battering ram shot to the wall, leaving a tiny divot in the concrete. He slaps the walls with both hands and turns around shouting a primordial yelp.
Gnash: OY YA BLEEDIN’ BOGANS GOT THE BEST OF US LAST WEEK WITH THE TUBBO PERVO AND ‘IS L’IL GARBAGE PALE KID WITH ‘IS TUCKER BUCKET! NOW WHAT’S FOR BREKKI THIS WEEK!?! A SODDIN’ FOOTY PLAYER WITH A BUMMY WUMMY KNEE AND ‘IS LITTLE STICKY BEAKED SHEILA ON THE OUTSIDE?! I’LL BE TORPEDOIN’ THAT FLAT TIRE WITH ME BLEEDIN’NOGGIN ‘TIL HE ‘AS CUSSIN’ OSTRICH LEGS!
Haul: You may have gathered that me bruv is a might agitated heading into this match. I’d love to tell you that this is a conditional thing, but he tends to live stuck in fifth gear. That’s not a problem when you’re living in a junk filled wasteland. He is however a little more peeved than normal because he doesn’t know who Felton Bigsby’s mate is going to be in this match.
Gnash: YOU TOLD ME YOU KNEW BUT IT WASN’T A SODDIN’ CONCERN FOR ME YA DUNNY KISSER!
Haul: It’s of no concern because no matter who shows up in the Hilton Promotions corner, they wont be making the tag in to save Felton.
Gnash: OHOHOH BOYO! I HOPE YE LIKE ROAD RASH BECAUSE IT’LL BE TAKING UP THE MAJORITY OF YOUR CHISELED PHYSIQUE ONCE WE RUN THEM WASHBOARD ABS ‘CROSS ASPHALT WITH A FULL SERVO HOOK N’ DRAG!
Haul: We’ve realized through our naturalization to this wicked Yank filled world that you people like to draw lines down the median of the road. As kids we thought it was a line of urine left by some unseen beast trying to evade us, but now we understand it’s meant to relegate the flow of traffic and cut the road in half. Now Doris, we’ll be doing the same thing with that ring. Felton wont make it to his side of the ring, he wont reach out to his corner, and he defo wont get a tag of reprieve.
Gnash: AND IF HE’S SODDIN’ LUCKY WE’LL LET THE EMTS HAVE’EM WHEN WE’RE DONE!
Haul: Now that’s bloody oath coming from one of the most destructive and sadistic men on the planet. Hilton Promotions, I don’t have to look to the stars to see your future if you plan on crossing REPOSSESSED!
Gnash: IS THAT ANOTHER BLEEDIN’ PROPHECY?!
Haul: You can call it prophecy,omen,a cosmic warning, or even a threat. I care not for distinction, so long as it is recognized as the kindness that it is. We’ve told you our game plan. We’ve confessed that we don’t care about the fourth or fifth person on the battlefield.
Gnash: AND IF THAT BIRD GETS INVOLVED I’LL GRAB ‘ER BY THE ANKLES AND BEAT THE OTHER TWO WITH’ER!
Haul: You can see this transparency as a favor, or you can see it as a reading of the tea leaves. We tell you our plan because we know you can’t stop it. Your fate crossed over the median into our destiny, and now…
Gnash: THERE’S NO GOIN’ BACK!
Gnash flush headbutts the camera and the scene fades to black.