Last week.. what can I say about last week? Well.. we won.. that's a good thing, considering that it lead up to this match. This match being Beer Money against the Second City Saints for the Tag Team titles, that is. I suppose Storm knowing about that stipulation last minute from JB helped out.. maybe we'll have to start doing that.. keeping any important details away from him til the last possible minute. A need to know basis, ya know? Anyhow, this week, we're in Long Island, New York...

SCENE 01: THEIR SKILLS ARE JUST AN ILLUSION...

So here we are... Long Island. Home of Billy Joel, Pat Benetar, and Mariah Carey.. not that anybody cares. Thing is, this is where Storm's second WIW pay-per-view appearance will be taking place, and one can only hope that it'll turn out better than the last one. Yeah, the infamous Boiling Point where our beloved Cowboy and Robert Roode got royally screwed over. I'll tell you one thing at this point - if it happens again, there will be no calming the Cowboy down. At least, not as easily as it was done the last time. Two cases of beer and a couple women were all that were needed, but we won't be so lucky a second time.

As we catch up to Miss Jackie and James Storm, they're walking the streets of a city called East Meadow, looking for something that has yet to be revealed by either of them.

"I'm telling you, Jackie, he's gotta be here somewhere. His bio said he lives here."

"Bio? You actually read a book?"

"Pfft... no." -He takes a sip of his beer and shrugs.- "Read it on wikipedia."

"Oh, I'm sorry.. how stupid of me. Why would I ever think you actually sat down and read a book?"

"Yeah, why would you? You should know me better than that by now, Jackie."

Jackie goes to fire off a reply, but is cut off by what sounds like a crowd of people oohing with a few 'oh my God's thrown in. Looking at each other, the two of them go around the corner and see a man standing in front of someone sitting down on the sidewalk. His hand is above the man's head, and everyone is paying especially close attention to what he's doing. As they near the crowd, Jackie asks one of the spectators, "What's going on?"

"Oh, Criss just made this guy's card disappear into that guy's head."

As soon as the onlooker says that, the guy labeled as Criss tells the man sitting down to go to sleep. As the man's chin drops to touch his chest, Criss takes a boxcutter and puts it to the base of the man's skull in the back. Slowly slicing his way up and around to the side of the man's head, we can see blood profusely draining from the cut. When he's done, he puts the boxcutter back into the pocket of his jeans and takes out a pair of forceps. Pulling the skin flap back a bit, he reaches into the wound and grabs something with the forceps before pulling on it. After a moment, we start seeing what it is he has ahold on - a playing card. Pulling it out, he accidentally rips it in two, but still shows the bloody card to the man behind him.

"Is this your card?"

Stunned, the man can do nothing but nod for a minute before replying, "Yeah... yeah, that's my card."

The crowd applauds and murmurs in amazement at the man's talents before dispersing. Helping the man over to the waiting ambulance, the man called Criss does what he can to clean up the site of his trick. Glancing up from the ground, he sees James and Jackie before grinning.

"Hey, hope you liked the show even though you came in late, but that's all there is for right now. Sorry."

"Naw, man. It's a'ight. That was cool, though. I didn't even have to be drunk to see that." He turns to Miss Jackie. "Can I try that on Roode sometime? He always says he's got his money on his mind. I wanna see if it's true."

"I don't think so, Storm. You could kill somebody doing that."

Storm just shrugs. "So? More beer money for me, hell. He's always holdin' out and you know it."

"He doesn't give you any cause you'd just blow it on beer!"

"Pfft... well yeah.. that's the point. What the hell else ya gonna buy with it?"

"Whatever.." She looks at Criss. "Hey, you're that guy from tv, aren't you? Criss Angel, right?"

Criss kinda laughs a little and nods. "Yeah.. yeah, that's me."

"Yeah, I thought so. I saw that show, Mindfreak. That was the shit."

Criss laughs again, used to the compliments. "Thank you.. thank you very much."

As usual, this is just now occurring to Storm, who's always a little slow on the uptake. "Man.. you're Criss Angel! Hey, I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

Criss, having no idea what he's talking about but always willing to talk to a Loyal, just nods with a confused look on his face. "Sure, man, what's up?"

"Alright... you do all this.. magic, illusion stuff, right?"

"I like to call them demonstrations, but yeah, that's what most people call it."

"What's the difference?"

Criss just shrugs. "There is no difference. People just have different names for it. I prefer to call them demonstrations because the word magic has been tainted over the years and I don't like the word tricks." He laughs. "I'm not a pimp, so why would I want to use a word associated with it?"

"That's nice. Anyhow, I wanna know what makes somethin' an illusion."

"Nothing really makes anything an illusion, James. There's a fine line between illusion and reality.. it's up to you to decide which one it is."

"Well there's these two guys I'm facin' this weekend called the Second City Saints, and I'm convinced that thier skills ain't nothin' but an illusion. How would I tell?"

"Sometimes you can't. It's all in a matter of believing it's one or the other."

"Am I ever going to get a straight answer out of you?"

Criss laughs again. "There isn't a point where I haven't given you a straight answer."

"Whatever. Anyhow, thanks, man. I appreciate it." He looks at Jackie. "C'mon, Jackie.. let's go."

Before Jackie can say anything or they can go anywhere, Criss stops them. "Before you go, you wanna see something?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatcha got?"

Criss takes out a new deck of cards out of his back pocket and opens the box, dumping the cards out into his hand. Fanning them out, he offers them to Storm. "Pick any card, but don't show it to me." Storm picks a card and holds it in front of him, the face of it aimed at his chest with the back facing Criss. "Remember your card, show it to her if you want, then put it back in the deck." Storm shows his card to Miss Jackie then puts it back before Criss shuffles the deck. "Now go through the deck and see if your card is there."

He goes to give the cards to James, but he shakes his head. "I gotta hold my beer.. give em to Jackie."

As he does, off to the side we hear Storm mumbling as Jackie rifles through the deck. "I don't put my beer down for nobody. I don't care how famous you are."

Miss Jackie then shakes her head. "I don't see it, James. It ain't there."

James sighs. "Then apparently it's missin', ain't it?"

Jackie hands the deck back to Criss, who just throws it at a nearby window. Most of the cards fall to the ground, but one sticks to the window. "Is that your card?"

Storm goes up to the window and puts his hand on the glass, running it over the card. He can't pick it up, so he looks back at Criss. "Damn.. that's cool.."

Criss nods, adknowledging his sentiments. "Thank you. Hey man, I gotta go, but thanks for the chat. Maybe I'll see ya around sometime."

"Yeah, maybe."

As Criss walks off, Jackie nudges Storm with her elbow. "I know how he did that."

Storm looks at Jackie. "How?"

"He had someone stick the card to the inside of the window while we weren't looking."

"How you know that? Wikipedia?"

"Nah... MSN Videos."

Storm laughs at this. "Damn, woman.. hey, I'm gettin' hungry. You wanna go get somethin?"

"Yeah, let's go."

The scene fades out with the two of them walking off, leaving the cards there on the sidewalk, some of which have blown into the street by now. So which is it? Are the Second City Saints' skills for real or just an illusion? I guess we'll find out this Sunday.

SCENE 02: AND THEY'LL BE SINGING SOPRANO...

When the scene fades back in, Storm and Jackie have obviously finished thier dinner and are now somewhere near Huntington, Long Island. As they get out of the cab, Miss Jackie pays the driver before he speeds off like pretty much all New Yorkers. Storm just looks at the car as it disappears, shaking his head.

"Damn man drives worse than I do, and I'm always drunk."

"Yeah, I know.. pitiful, ain't it?"

"Damn straight."

They turn around and we see that they're standing in front of a huge music hall with a large banner across the top of the door, proudly displaying the announcement "MARIAH CAREY LIVE" with the dates of the show underneath. Looking over at Jackie, Storm just gives her an 'are you kidding me' look.

"Mariah Carey... are you kidding me, Jackie? C'mon.. the last time that big mouthed bimbo was on the radio, she busted all my beer bottles to hell. Why the hell would I wanna meet her? She commited alcohol abuse."

"Well guys tend to talk a little higher after you kick em in the nuts, so I decided she was the best one to go to if we're gonna make the Second City Saints into women the hard way. "

Storm nods, taking all this in. "Alright.. but if she sings too high and busts my beer bottle all to hell, that's it. I'll drop her ass like a ton of bricks, Jackie.. I swear I will. Nobody wastes my damn beer.. I pay hard earned money for my beer, and you know it."

"Yeah, James, I know.. now come on.. you're wasting time."

The two of them go into the building, the doors shutting behind them almost silently. As they walk forward towards the stage, James is looking around, almost awed at the inside. Onstage, Mariah is practicing, making sure her voice can reach to the back of the building.

"Yeah, that's good, Ms. Carey.. I can hear you just fine," one of her assistants says from behind the very last row of seats. Coming around the end, he walks up to the two of them and looks them up and down, curious as to why they're there. "Can I help you two? You're not really supposed to be in here. She's practicing, and it's not near about time for the show yet. It isn't until tomorrow night."

Jackie quickly thinks up an excuse. "Oh, well, we're big fans of Miss Carey, see, and we just wanted to talk to her for a minute. It won't take long, I promise."

Before the man can reply, Storm opens his mouth as usual. "I don't wanna talk to her.. damn woman busted up all my beer bottles last time.."

Before Storm can blow thier cover anymore, Jackie stomps on his foot with the heel of her boot. "Is it okay if we talk to her? Like I said, it won't take long, I promise."

Mentally debating about his answer for a minute, the man eventually concedes. "Fine, but make it quick. She has work to do."

"We will. Thank you." She grabs Storm, who's doubled over from being stomped on and is still whining about his foot, around the waist and pulls him over to the front of the stage. "Miss Carey, can we talk to you for a minute?"

Mariah takes a sip of water out of a bottle that's handed to her by another assistant and looks down at Jackie from her spot on the stage. "Sure.. just give me a second and I'll be down there." She tells a few things to her assistant and he rushes off to get them done as she comes down the small set of stairs to the front of the stage. "So what can I help you with? Do you want an autograph or something?"

Having heard her voice, Storm stands up straight and glares at her. "No I don't want your damn autograph, I want you to pay for my damn beer to be replaced! Do you know how much that fuckin costs?"

Before Storm can say anymore, Jackie stomps on his foot again, making him go back to his previously bent over position, which makes Mariah look at him in concern. "Is he, um.. is he alright?"

"He's fine, Miss Carey.. just a bit sick from the crazy cab ride over here. I swear, these people have no idea how to drive at a normal speed.. or in a straight line, for that matter. Anyhow, I just wanted to ask you... were you born with your high pitched voice, or did you develop it?"

"Oh, it's actually a little bit of both. My mom was a vocal coach and a opera singer, plus I kept practicing in order to get it in shape, so it's kinda fifty-fifty. Why?"

"No reason, really.. just wondering. How do you keep it in good shape? Is it something you drink or what?"

"Not really. I just rest it when I can and keep exercising it."

"Oh, alright. You see, I was wondering because there's these two guys that're going to be singing in the range that you can, and we were seeing what we could do to help them out."

"Oh.. alright, then. Um, just drink plenty of water and rest your voice. Some take honey and drink it, if that helps."

"It does. Thank you, Miss Carey.. and good luck with the show and all."

"You're welcome... and thank you."

"You're welcome." She pats Storm, who's just been able to stand up, on the back and points towards the doors. "Come on. We got what we needed. Let's go."

"A'ight... least my beer made it through this... that's all I'm worried about."

As they reach the doors, Mariah, in her practicing, hits a high note, shattering his beer bottle. "God DAMMIT!" Slinging his hand off to the side, disgusted and pissed, he's lead out by Jackie before he can say anything else within earshot of Mariah. Outside, however, is a different story.

"That BITCH broke my damn beer bottle AGAIN! That's twenty-five damn beers she owes me!" By the count of twenty-five, we can assume that he buys them by the case and not by units - twenty-four plus the one she just shattered makes up his count of twenty-five. "At twenty-seventy-nine a case, that's twenty-two bucks, not counting taxes and shit. If you add in the taxes, that's nearly thirty bucks! Dammit, Jackie, the woman owes me thirty bucks, and you didn't let me get it! The woman needs to pay for her damn alcohol abuse."

"I know, Storm.. I know.. come on.. we have one more stop to make before we go to the arena."

"Alcohol abuse is WRONG, Jackie! She needs to pay for her crimes! She needs to pay ME thirty bucks for wasting all my damn beer!"

As Storm continues to bitch about his poor, wasted beer, they get into yet another cab - let's hope this guy can drive better than the last. The scene fades out as the car heads off in yet another direction, thier destination unknown to us. Will they indeed help out the Second City Saints with thier vocal problems come Sunday? Who knows..

SCENE 03: ...JUST BEFORE THEIR CAREER DIES A HORRIBLE DEATH.

As the scene fades in again, they're... still in the cab? Yep, we join them in the back of the cab, where Jackie is on the phone and they have obviously stopped at least once since we last saw them, seeing as James is happily sipping on a new bottle of beer.

"Alright.. thanks, Suzette. Bye." She shuts the phone and puts it in her jeans pocket before turning to Storm. "She says Dee isn't home now and to check the Greenfield Cemetary on Nassau Road. He's filming for a show called Dead Art." She leans up and tells this information to the driver, who immediately begins to change routes.

Within minutes, they're at the previously mentioned cemetary and getting out of the cab. After Jackie pays for the ride yet again - what, you thought James was gonna pay? Yeah, sure.. keep thinking that. Anyhow, after she pays the driver, he speeds off like the last one before they turn and look at the giant gates leading into the field.

"This is really the best way it could've gone, Storm. We're not but ten minutes away from the arena, and this is our last stop before we get there."

"Yeah, and dead people don't drink beer. Even better."

She lightly smacks him on the arm and he shrugs, as if to ask 'what?' before they push the gates open and go inside. Walking up a slight incline, they can see two people in the distance, and one seems to be holding a camera. As they get closer, they can recognize one person, and it just so happens to be the person Jackie mentioned earlier - rock legend Dee Snider. They stand there, listening for a minute to the things he's describing and saying about the cemetary and the people buried in it before the two men take a break. Looking over at them, Dee grins and walks over after excusing himself from the other man's company.

"Hey, Suzette said you'd be coming over. I'm Dee.. and don't bother introducing yourselves. I know who you are already. I'm a big fan of wrestling, but an even bigger fan of Beer Money. Hey, everybody needs it, right?"

Storm laughs. "That's it, man. I didn't know you were a fan of Beer Money, though. Remind me to send ya one of our t-shirts, alright?"

Dee laughs and nods. "Alright, I'll do it. So what can I help you with? Suzette mentioned something about your upcoming title match?"

"Yeah. We're against these two guys who call thierselves the Second City Saints. Where the hell this 'Second City' is, iono, but they're goin' around sayin' Beer Money ain't gonna get the titles from em. Now since we both know that's a lie and a half, we wanna know what we can do to prepare them for comin' here afterwards."

Dee thinks about this for a minute then replies. "Well the 'second city' thing usually refers to Chicago, but it's been said that Chicago got replaced by Los Angeles back in the eighties, so who the hell knows anymore. It's become a phrase that's tossed around more than the word 'love' these days. It rarely has any more meaning than that, to be honest, but I'm just a Long Islander.. what the hell do I know?" He just shrugs and laughs. "But you said you wanted to prepare them for coming here.. comin' here meaning the cemetary, or what?"

"What else would I mean? Of course they're comin here. We're gonna kill em, man. It's easy as hell."

"Iono, Cowboy. Some things are easier said than done. Take it from someone who knows."

"Well this won't be.. now tell me how to get them to accept that they're gonna die this Sunday, and we'll be fine."

"Unless they've already accepted it, you can't. They have to accept the fact that they're going to die on thier own.. it isn't something you can teach them."

"So.. you're telling me I can't? You're telling me, The Tennessee Cowboy James Storm, that I can't do nothin? That they gotta accept that they're gonna die?"

Dee nods slowly. "That's what I'm tellin ya, and these guys don't sound like they're ready to accept defeat anytime soon."

"Well they better get ready real damn quick, cause there ain't no way Beer Money's leavin Long Island without them damn title belts! We fought our way up the damn ladder match by match, and we're gettin what I been sayin we deserve since the beginnin'!" He glances at Jackie. "C'mon, Jackie.. we're leavin.. we been hangin around the dead too damn long."

With that, James starts walking off, a pissed off look on his face. As he's taking a sip out of his beer bottle and waiting by the curb, Jackie quickly apologizes to Dee and thanks him for his time. Joining James on the sidewalk, she flags down yet another cab and opens the door to get in as the scene fades out. Will the Second City Saints' careers - as well as thier bodies - end up in some random, unmarked Long Island grave this Sunday? I suppose we'll find out.

SCENE 04: EVERYBODY OWES BEER MONEY - EVEN YOU.

As the scene opens for the final time, we're now outside the Nassau Coliseum, where World War will be taking place Sunday. The card is indeed packed with matches that could end title reigns as well as careers - Edge versus Konnan, Batista versus John Morrison, Cody Rhodes versus Santino Marella, Melina versus Sara Calloway, Christopher Daniels versus Kaz... but the one match that's on our favorite beer-drinker's mind is his - Beer Money versus the Second City Saints for the WIW Tag Team titles. No sooner than they get through the superstar's entrance, JB is like a dog, greeting his owners home with a happy bark and a wagging tail.. and of course, the mic in his hand.

"Hey, you two.. how are you? I was wondering when you'd get here. Everyone's been here for awhile now, setting up for Sunday and all." He stops short as he gives Storm a confused look. Storm has gone from staring at JB to turning around in one spot, looking at the top of the door frame that they just came through. "Um, Storm? What.. what are you doing?"

Storm, as if just now noticing that JB was there, turns and looks at him. "I was lookin for the damn alarm, JB! We just got in the fuckin door, and you're already pouncing on us like some kinda horny teenager! Who'd you pay to hook up the Storm alarm? I mean yeah, everybody wants thier Beer Money, but damn.. you want it too damn much."

"I don't have a... I'm not a...." JB goes to say, but figures it's useless. He just goes on with the plans he had to interview them. "Look, I was wondering if I could get a few words from you about your match on Sunday. I mean, the Second City Saints sound ready for this.. I don't know about you guys.."

James gives him a look, as if he's thinking the boy's out of his mind, and knowing Storm.. "JB, are you out of your ever-lovin mind? When has Beer Money NOT been ready for somebody? We've beaten everybody that the damn management's put in front of us."

"Except for, um, Santino and Haas at Boiling Point.."

"That's beside the damn point, JB, and if anybody ever brings that up again, I'm gonna make em regret it. Thing is, the way I see it, everybody owes Beer Money.. even you."

"I.. I owe Beer Money? How's that? I.. I don't get it."

"Let's look at this the logical way, JB. Let's go through all my matches one-by-one.. first we got that battle royal I was in with Sting, Petey Williams, Abyss, Raven, Mick Foley, Carlito, Brock Lesnar, and Idol Stevens. Right there, you got four people we used to work with back in TNA, and I know they owe Beer Money. They been owin' it for years. After that, there's the other four guys that was in the match, and where are they now? They ain't here. They done gone off somewhere. They owe Beer Money for savin' them the humiliation they woulda suffered after bein' beaten by somebody else. I ended thier careers early, and didn't even get so much as a thank you."

"Um, alright.. next match?"

"Booker T and one of them Hardy boys. Yeah, they won the match, but who won the beat down afterwards? That's right, Beer Money did. So they owe Beer Money for makin' them tougher than they already were."

"After that was Beer Money and Jeff Jarrett against Lashley, Angle, and Matt Hardy."

"Oh, that was the Hardy boy's name.. I knew it was somethin like that. Anyhow, it's just another case of... beer? Naw, naw, not a case of beer.. though one would be nice right about now.. but it was a case of us gettin' them into the spotlight just cause they were fightin' us." Storm sighs. "Just save everybody the headache of goin' through all my matches and say that everbody.. owes Beer Money. Whether they faced me or they faced Roode, they owe Beer Money. They owe us for gettin thier damn scruffy ass faces out there to the fans. Otherwise, nobody would know who the hell they were."

"Alright.. but.. how do I owe Beer Money?"

"Do I gotta explain everything to you, JB? You owe Beer Money... for gettin' you this job right here. Yep, if it wasn't for Beer Money, you wouldn't have this job. We brought your ass over here from TNA with our power and our good looks... and the beer, of course."

"Um.. then.. thank you?"

"Pfft.. I don't want no damn thank you, JB! I want my damn beer money! What the hell you been listenin' to? I know it wasn't what I was just sayin'. If it was what I was just sayin', you woulda gotten the point. Prolly listenin' to them damn.. whatcha callit.. them damn Backstreet Boys on your IPod or somethin."

"Yeah.. yeah, sure, Storm. Anyway, about this Sunday, have you heard what CM Punk's been saying about beer lately? He said it's poison.. that you're ruining your body by drinking it, and it's gonna kill you."

Storm looks at JB for a minute then just shrugs. "Gotta die of somethin'... might as well die happy."

"He said beer was bad for you."

Storm, in the middle of a sip of beer, finishes what was in his mouth and looks at JB. "Bad for you? He said beer was bad?"

"That's what he said, yeah."

Storm looks at the ground and shakes his head sadly. "Damn.." He looks back at JB. "Then apparently.. Punky Punk didn't hear what I had to say about beer's good points back in TNA. In that case..." He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a folded up peice of paper. "...I got right here ten reasons why beer is good for you."

"You still have that thing, Storm?"

"Yeah, why not?" He unfolds the peice of paper as best he can without letting go of his beer. "Anyhow, ten good reasons why beer is good for you. Reason number ten... beer reduces stress. When you have a beer, it calms you down, it takes the nerves off of ya, and you have a good time."

"Well yeah, I can see that.. that's a good reason."

"Reason number nine... beer is part of a balanced diet. Little tip for ya... if you ever get pulled over, put two beers in ya hands," He puts his hands out to his sides as if trying to balance. "..and it evens you out, just like this right here."

JB looks a little less accepting of this one. "Oh.. okay.."

"Reason number seven..." JB doesn't dare interrupt to tell him he skipped a number. "...beer improves blood circulation. It thins ya blood out so, uh, you don't have heart attacks and things like that."

"Well that's good to know."

"Yeah, I thought so. Reason number six... beer is chock full of.. fiber. Has a lot of fiber in it."

"And how do you know that?"

"Bathroom told me a few minutes ago." He laughs. "It was preeetty brutal. Ask anybody that drinks a lot of beer, and they'll tell ya.. they know exactly what I mean."

"Yeah, I'm sure they do."

"Reason number four.." Again, he's skipped a number, but JB isn't saying anything. "...beer prevents strokes."

"And this has been clinically proven?"

"I.. guess, iono. Anyhow, like I said, ninty-nine point nine-four-four-nine, or whatever that stuff is, of what Cowboy says is true."

"Oh, I forgot about that.."

"Yeah.. now what number were we on? Number four?"

"Yeah, I think we just covered number four."

"Well I got two number fours... beer keeps your brain young. You ever go out into a bar and you see these old guys, about, uh, forty, forty-five, fifty, and they're sittin there, and they're drinkin, tryin' to pick up on these young chicks? That's what I'm talkin about. It's because they think they're eighteen, nineteen again. Those guys I kinda don't like that much cause I always wind up knockin em out before the night's over with. I'm just sayin'... it keeps your brain young."

"Oh, okay.. that seems fair.."

"Reason number three... beer is good for your liver. Do not drink that hard stuff, cause when you drink that hard stuff, you'll wake up in the mornin' and your liver's on the pillow beside ya, cryin', goin' 'What did you do to me? Why did you drink all that? I don't like all that liquor.' That's why you drink beer."

"Alright, I don't think so, but go ahead.."

"Reason number two... beer cures insomnia."

"Oh really?"

"Yep. Oh, I don't know.. I just like sayin' that word cause it's a big word and it makes me seem intelligent with my accent, ya know? Anyways, number one. Reason number one why beer is good for ya... shouldn't there be a drumroll or somethin? Anyway, reason number one... beer... cures your gall bladder."

"Wait.. cures your gall bladder? How does it cure your gall bladder?"

Storm starts laughing since it seems like JB's pointed out something he missed. "I'm sorry... I wrote that down wrong. It cures gall stones, not your gall bladder. You know, I got like a star, a bonus one, if you wanna hear that one."

"Sure.. by all means."

"Alright.. bonus reason for why beer is good for ya. It helps.. fat chicks.. look adorable. I'm just sayin'. You ever, like, go to a bar sober, and you see this girl, and she has like, five or six rolls on her?"

"No.. not really."

"Anyways, you start drinkin, and after awhile, all those rolls just, start to become one. They don't look as bad. I'm just sayin'."

"Well I'm sure all your fans took note of that, and the next time they go to the bar, they'll have thier list.."

"Yep, like a little checklist.. check, check, check.."

"Well anyway, thank you for your time, James, and good luck to Beer Money at the pay-per-view."

"Yeah.. now go bother somebody else.. I got beers to drink."

As JB scampers off, Storm and Jackie find thier way to his locker room in order to get set up for Sunday. Will Beer Money really be ready to take on the Second City Saints? Will they win what they've been saying they deserve in the tag team titles? Most importantly, is beer actually good for you? These questions and more will be answered.. at WIW's World War, this Sunday on pay-per-view.