[CUT: backstage - A white bandaged wrapped around his oddly shaped, awkwardly white head, Ice Tre balances "looking pimp" and "looking hard" while fingering the vending machine.]
[CUT TO: The Greyhound bus, roaring through the night en route to Las Vegas. Dan Ryan and IrishRed, sitting with referee Rosenkrantz between them, are doing their best to NOT reach across the official and kill each other. Somewhere off-camera, some old lady can be vaguely heard babbling about her grandkids.]
DT: Hey, we're back on the bus!
[Ryan sighs, boredly.]
RYAN: ...So.
IRISHRED: So.
RYAN: Ever been to Vegas?
IRISHRED: Yeah.
RYAN: 'S nice.
IRISHRED: Yeah.
RYAN: Yeah.
[There's silence.]
IRISHRED: I've gotta pee.
[Red gets up and makes for the washroom.]
RYAN: Me too.
[He follows suit. The referee does too, and all three men file into the washroom, along with the cameraman. Red locks the door.]
DT: --OH, DAN RYAN SLAMS HIS FIST INTO IRISHRED'S FACE AND KNOCKS HIM AGAINST THE BACK WALL OF THE WASHROOM!!! RED FALLS BACK AND RYAN GRABS THE PLUNGER AND STARTS BASHING HIM OVER THE HEAD WITH IT!!!
MN: Hahahaha! Fighting in the washroom of a Greyhound bus! That's a first!
DM: How do they even FIT into that tiny stall?!
DT: I don't know, but IrishRed just grabbed the business end of the plunger! Yanks it out of Ryan's hands! DRIVES THE BUTT INTO HIS STOMACH!!! DDT!!! DDT ON THE FLOOR OF THE GREYHOUND BUS WASHROOM!!!
DM: Red grabbing Ryan by the hair now...
MN: Oh no...
DT: OH NO!!! OH GOD HE JUST PUSHED DAN RYAN'S FACE INTO THE TOILET AND HIT THE FLUSH!!! DAN RYAN IS STRUGGLING LIKE A WILD ANIMAL BUT IRISHRED IS NOT LETTING UP!!!
MN: THIS IS CRUEL AND UNUSUAL!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!
DM: I CAN'T BELIEVE... THAT LOWLIFE SLIMEBALL IRISHRED!!!
DT: RED SLAMS HIS FIST AGAINST THE BACK OF RYAN'S HEAD! AGAIN - RYAN JUST REARS BACK AND ROARS, SLAMMING IRISHRED INTO THE WALL OF THE BUS!!! ELBOW TO THE GUT OF IRISHRED!!! TAKES HIM BY THE HEAD AND SMASHES HIM FACE-FIRST INTO THE MIRROR, AND IT SHATTERS INTO A MILLION LITTLE FRAGMENTS!!!
MN: Hahaha! Seven years' bad luck for IrishRed!
DT: RED BLEEDING FROM THE FOREHEAD AGAIN--
[There's a knock on the door.]
OLD LADY: Hurry up, ya young whippersnappers! I have ta use the facilities!
[Red and Ryan look at each other. The referee opens the door, and the men file out, letting the little old bitty dodder into the washroom.]
OLD LADY: Oh my, what a mess! Who's responsible fer all this?
[Ryan, Red, and the cameraman all point at referee Rosenkrantz.]
RYAN/RED/CAMERAMAN: Him.
ROSENKRANTZ: What th-
OLD LADY: Oh my, back in my day we had respect for others' property-
[Ryan slams the washroom door shut.]
ROSENKRANTZ: You guys are losers.
[Ryan and Red don't answer him. They shuffle towards the back of the bus and sit down. In passing, the cameraman turns the shot to a middle-aged couple whispering to each other.]
WIFE: [Frank, did you hear all the commotion in there? Four grown men in a washroom stall?]
FRANK: [Well, what do you expect from those queers, Margaret.]
MN: --What did he just-
DT: Folks, it looks like the match is again on hold, so let's get back to Los Angeles! We’ve got some more video from backstage..
IT: C'mon, baby ... give up the Snapple ...
[The vending machine obliges, spitting out that fabulous sugar-laced nectar we call Snapple. Reaching down to get it, Tre glances up in time to catch the passing EPW World Champion, Lindsay Troy, seemingly on the way to the ring looking worried. She barely even glances at him. He stands up, smelling her sweet ... sweet pheromones and admiring her curves in motion, in person.]
IT: Got'DAYUM that's one FINE ass!
[He gulps down his drink, some streaming down his chin as Cassidy Stewart steps up behind him.]
CS: You happy now? Content? Are we DONE for the night, Tre? You were carried off by homeless people, Tre. HOMELESS PEOPLE!
[Tre follows Lindsay Troy's majestic figure until it's out of his view, a smile pasted on his face.]
IT: Yeaaah. Yeaaah, son. We done. For tonight.
[Cassidy breaths a sigh of relief, following his newest, most troublesome client to date towards the arena exit.]
CS: We've got a lot of work to do, Tre. A lot.
IT: I'm down.
MN: You know what? I’m actually starting to like him a little bit. Heh.
DT: We’re still getting nothing from the Greyhound, so we’re gonna take a break and compose ourselves. We’ll be right back!