Just a bunch of ????????
(FADEIN to Jared Wells getting ready to pass out from a night of drinking. Laid back in his chair mad, confused)
JARED WELLS: I don't get it. I really don't F(BLEEP)KING get it. I'm going to cut to the bull(BLEEP). I look up and down in NEW and what do I see? A sausage party. DO YOU KNOW WHO THE F(BLEEP)K I AM? I mean, what the F(BLEEP)K do I have to do around here to make my balls dangle even further in the eyes of the NEW F(BLEEP)KS?
I don't give a F(BLEEP)K about a division match. So I get set up in this little match called the Desert Death Match? DO YOU KNOW WHO THE F(BLEEP)K I AM?
(Confused look on JW's face)
You might as well make a fruit cake, invite the wives, and martinis for this one. Are you F(BLEEP)ING serious?! Where is the beer? Who the F(BLEEP)K is Trevor Cane? What do I do? Should I pack a lunch? Maybe I'll stay in on a Saturday night, go to bed early and wake up early Sunday to plant trees. Read books to senior citizens. Stay sober. Maybe next time I have sex with some random B(BLEEP)CH I'll wear a condom? Do me a favor and jab pins in me and wake me up.
The Desert Death Match? Sounds like a jobber contract on a pole match. Daddy is not gonna deal with it. In fact, after Trevor SUCK ASS Cane is done, I'm gonna make my visit around the rest of the (BLEEP)holes.
Too many questions tonight......just don't know.
Bunch of cacti and sand for our friend Trevor here. Sand to rub against his ass and cacti to stick in his mouth. It's your show bro, you call the shots. DO YOU KNOW WHO THE F(BLEEP)K I AM?
Trevor Candy Cane, thanks for making your order, please drive through. Thanks for being a nobody.
(fadeout)