(FADE-IN, *****ES… wait, sorry. Bitches: Fade in on a tram riding over the Sandia Mountains in New Mexico. Yeah, it’s a little far away, but the Heirs… okay, Ryan driving decided to take a detour because he wanted to proclaim his awesomeness from the mountain tops, so here we are.
Standing outside a gigantic fountain in the lobby are none other than my children… er, your heroes, The Heirs of Wrestling! Frank Pierce looks as stylish as ever, rocking a nice black muscle shirt and expensive blue jeans. Ryan Gallway, the Heirs’ cruiserweight contingent, has on a red tank top, black jeans and yes… it’s Spring technically, but f*ck you all, he has on his silk scarf that American trash couldn’t afford in one year’s salary. He still owes Frank for that, by the by. And Mack Brody, the metrosexual version of Terry Gordy rests comfortably against his side of the tram, probably looking at his reflection in the window. Yup, that’s probably gonna happen about twelve times in this segment. You’ve been warned.)
FRANK PIERCE: Here we are, ladies and germs! Fifty action-packed editions of Aggression have passed us by. But it only took us one Aggression to prove we do exactly what we say we’re going to do. Layne Winters prattled on with stories of the past and how he was going to cripple us worse than polio and about a thousand other clichés that spewed more like The First’s jizz rather than mere verbal diarrhea. Anarky just kind of hung out in the corner and probably diddled himself when nobody thought he was looking. You know, like David Carradine. And here WE are, recovering from that crippling los… oh, wait.
RYAN GALLWAY: We f*cked those guys up. Like, playing the “Mario dies” theme at a funeral.
MACK BRODY: Wow. That IS f*cked up. Hilarious, though.
FRANK PIERCE: Indubitably.
(All three share a solemn nod before Frank continues.)
FRANK PIERCE: Like us, our opponents were also written off in their respective matches. John Doe was the favorite and Karl “The Dragon” Brown was poised to make a grand return to EPW center stage. We were all overlooked. Passed, glossed and I think even at one point, we were written off, too. HOPE was going to walk right in and do the same thing to us that they’ve been doing to Anthology in the last few months. But… oh, surprise, surprise, the Heirs of Wrestling flipped the script and the so-called real stars of EPW got cast into a role they’ll grow familiar with any time they cross our paths: Our b*tches.
(The Heirs share a laugh amongst themselves, high-fiving like the bunch of jock punkasses they are.)
FRANK PIERCE: Yeah, sure, Fusenshoff managed to score the upset and Michael I-Don’t-Know-Who-My-Real-Dad-Is slapped around John Doe a little bit. But the fans? They’re not talking about Fusenshoff drinking Karl Brown under the table metaphorically… and literally. We’re not talking about some macabre-sounding nobody that calls himself a bastard kicking around a nobody that has the charisma of the dead corpse he names himself after.
RYAN GALLWAY: You know what they ARE talking about, you guys? They be sayin’ “Heirs of Wrestling. Greater Than Sign. Your Name Here.”
MACK BRODY: …Huh? Oh, yeah, Heirs the rule, you guys the suck.
(Mack turns back to his reflection as his cohorts continue.)
FRANK PIERCE: We’ve reached greater heights here in EPW in one night than anybody thought possible for “new guys.” It was the Heirs of Wrestling that gave Layne Winters a rare notch in his loss column. It was US that made him run around here, sobbing and whining like the roided-up, strung-out b*tch that he is. It was US that made him cry out to the heavens for the competition, it was US making him put his TV Title on the line against three people so he can convince himself he’s still relevant and it was US that made him go postal… on, you, Michael.
(The ringleader of the Heirs puffs his chest out just to make every word seem that much more important.)
FRANK PIERCE: By the way, that was pretty funny, the way that he bounced your head off the floor like a pinball. Believe me when I say we’re looking forward to doing the same thing, just better. Now, Michael Asshole, before you go and pick out your next sh*tty macabre to a cut a promo in, whether that be a warehouse, meat locker or sharing a faggoty Turkish bath with The Amazing Logan, you and Fusenshoff should really take a cue from HOPE’s example.
(Ryan adds in his two cents. Now, all he needs is four dollars and he’ll get that latte he was craving earlier.)
RYAN GALLWAY: Those stupid-assed, face-painted, gruff turd bullets got smacked down because they were too busy looking at other things, whether that be their feud with Anthology or The First pulling a Bill Buchner and dropping the f*cking ball! Green River Justice? Nah, we f*cked those f*ckers up with some TRUTH!
(Patting him on the shoulder, Frank smiles.)
FRANK PIERCE: That about sums it up. You, Fusenshoff, and the Amazing Assbag better stop worrying about what Dan Ryan’s next move is going to be. What you better START worrying about is us ass-whomping you up so bad, you’ll be flashing back to the reason for all that angst you walk around with. Probably your dad yanking your pants down at night so he could make you submit to his Rusty Spike.
(Just off his shoulder, Ryan winces at the low blow.)
FRANK PIERCE: The bottom line is this: you and Fusenshoff better find yourselves some synergy right quick. You better focus on what’s at hand and not get lost in the clouds, Mikey.
(The camera gets a look outside at the splendorous view of the Sandia Mountain range. Getting a good look at the view, it shows how high off the ground the Heirs of Wrestling really are. Frank can be heard chuckling off-camera.)
FRANK PIERCE: Otherwise, you’re going to find out that it’s a long way down.
(FADE-OUT.)