The camera opens inside the truck stop lobby where The Undercover Lover sits in his robe with his legs crossed, reading a complimentary Car & Driver magazine while lounging in a rattan chair with packaged Slim Jims interwoven into it’s back in a design similar to the Iron Throne. Sensing the cameraman’s presence, he lowers the magazine to reveal his sneering lips peaking out from beneath his mask.
“I had the idea of going all out with production, but my current financial situation required a little reduction. Randall Schwartz, The Lover respects the vibe of your scene. You’re selfish, you cheat, and you screwed Bobby Dean. Those are all things that The Lover can admire. At any other time Lover would, but things are getting dire.”
The Lover throws down his magazine and rises indignantly from his makeshift throne. He makes his way over to a coffee pot at the counter, giving a knowing nod to the surly store owner behind it while pouring himself a paper cup of Joe.
“In another life we might’ve teamed up, taken the tag division by storm, and cleaned up! But as fate would have it we’re at odds this week, and the Lover’s on a losing streak. I read a dirt sheet saying ‘Bobby should be proud for putting down the Lover for the fans at home and in the crowd. After all, the Lover rarely eats the pin.’ Well dirt sheet Dave, look at my record and think again! I’m in a bind, a decline, and a downright slump. The Lover puts it all out there in the ring, and yet he just can’t get over that hump. Be it the two fatsos who’ve beat me, or interference from robo-men, it seems as though Lover struggles to catch a win more frequently than now and again. Now I wont cry or whine because one loss in the four is my fault. I socked Bobby in view of the ref, and for that an L I caught. I made a statement though, so it was worth it to get my match. But when showtime came ‘betis Bobby fell, and instead of moving I tried to catch. But I can’t live in regret, it’s too much for Lover to take. Besides, I’ve known enough lovely ladies who’ve made that mistake OH HAVE MERCY!”
The surly truck stop owner clears his throat and eyes The Lover with contempt. The Lover slugs back his coffee and throws the balled up paper cup away and backs away from the counter slowly.
“Now I’m stuck in this truck stop for lack of any other choice. The owner said I cold crash so long as I used my inside voice. Randall you’ve been on hard times as well. The journey to get your license back may have literally put you through hell. But I’m not a man who pities those who aren’t down on their self, so forgive me if after all you’ve been through Lover puts you back on the shelf. Now that’s not a threat, that’s not a promise, and it isn’t even mind games. I’m just being honest when I say to you I’m done with living in shame. A man can’t thrive off of jerky and booze or sleep comfortably in a rattan. So forgive me if putting you down for the three means doing absolutely anything I can. At least you can fall back on some sort of career in luxurious Hollywood. I mean…Lover’s been in movies himself, but fine-happy censors say referencing them does my wallet no good.”
Lover returns to his meat seat, plopping down gently as he eyes the unflinching man behind the counter before turning back to the camera.
“So I’ll say in conclusion that I don’t plan on losin’ even if it costs me the honor of my fellow thief. I’ve been babbling on in this promo too long, so I’ll keep my closing thesis brief: I’m going to beat you Randall in order to rid myself of financial grief. I’m off the rails lately and my career is in desperate need of new trackage. So please don’t take it personally when I grab your sideburns and pull you in for a small package. OH HAVE-”
The truck stop owner lets out a loud grunt and reaches under the counter and pulls out a shotgun. He slams it on the counter, freezing Love mid-sign off. Lover cuts his eyes to the camera.
“e-end the feed. Just turn off-”
Cut to black.