(Inside a dark and seedy hotel room we find The Lover laying in the center of a heart shaped bed in his satin robe with his arms crossed behind his head and women laying at his sides holding ice packs against different parts of his anatomy.)
“The Undercover Lover is comin’ off of two weeks of feelin’ like he’s been ran over by a boulder, and what’s welcoming him? Carlos Ruiz with a chip on his shoulder. Let’s get something straight right from the start while Lover lounges on this satin heart; I don’t care who you’ve been with or who you’ve beat, because coming up on Classic Wrestling Television the Undercover Lover is who you’ll meet.”
(Lover snaps his fingers and on cue his harem withdraw the ice packs and rise out of bed in unison, as if hypnotized by the Lover’s charms.)
“Give the Lover some time to talk to this so-called ‘winner’. I’m sure for most of you there’s a man comin’ home soon that’s expecting dinner.”
(The women all look at one another confused, however another Lover snap shakes them out of their stagnate state and they all head to the door in single file. The Lover sits up in bed and watches them leave, waiting for the last in line to shut the door behind them before he scoots to the end of the bed and straddles the base of the heart, somehow miraculously keeping his robe down as he does so.)
“Now everybody thinks they’ve got a sure thing because they put in work. They break skin, they buy rings, and put up with bureaucratic jerks. Never in the their wildest dreams do they think they’re going to be undercut by a guy like me, a man on the run ’til one day they walk in to find The Lover or some manager’s son. Ya see the man on the run has a head start right out of the gate. Their hands stay clean, their parents stay rich, and they don’t worry whose the daddy when she’s late. You think you’ve lain the runway for your career to ascend, but you didn’t realize the Lover was already on the tarmac waiting just around the bend. I’ve made it clear from day uno that no man’s property is sacred in my eyes, so you can’t blame the Lover when he wins for putting out lies. You should’ve seen this comin’ from a mile away Los of Carl, so spare me the growling, stink eye, and phony tough guy snarl.”
(The Lover falls back on the bed, his arms spread at his side as he smiles up at the ceiling.)
“You wanna buy TV time just to gripe, groan, and moan? Let the Lover give you somethin’ to cry about after he’s spent weeks bedridden…but never alone. As for your past-tense paramour? That doesn’t surprise the Lover one bit because he’s seen it all before. A man like you is motivated, driven, and obsessed with succeeding. Meanwhile men like the Lover are off the road making sure your love is fleeting. That’s the problem with men like you who think you’re owed what you’ve sown, but I want you to sit back for a second, listen to Lover, and let your mind get blown. Farmers don’t keep their crops, and a writer’s credit goes to actors. Pencil-necks getting by while others get rich off their words are no different than rubes with tractors. But at least the farmer gets to keep the homestead while the writers spend winter in Cabo. What does the weekly ham and egger get? Nada, nothin’, el zilcho!”
(The Lover undoes his robe to reveal his bare chest, still dotted with yellow, nearly healed, bruises.)
“You tell The Lover that you have no one like it’s going to deter him from taking what’s left, but the Lover doesn’t mind ending a four match winning streak. On the contrary, he considers it petty theft. Ya see The Lover doesn’t just steal your girl, he’ll steal your sis or daughter, but if all you have worth taking is four w’s? he’ll happily lead that lamb to slaughter.”
(The Lover reaches into his robe pocket and pulls out a quarter. He glances over to the side of the bed where an automated change box rests. He slides the quarter into the slot and braces himself as vibrations start to slowly take over the bed and the camera starts to fade to black.)
“OoOoOoH hAaAaVe MeRcEeEeEeH!”