The following pre-recorded promotion is brought to you by the Famine Destroyer.. Shawn Christopher.

"Famine, really... how many flashbacks do I have to see? And who cares that you beat Steve Jason? Oh yeah, I forgot, Steve Jason is a big name around these parts. He's a legend. Everybody just drops to their knees and sucks his dick when they see him.

Well FUCK STEVE JASON!

I don't give a fuck about some guy you've lucke dup and beaten years ago. Why don't you show a flashback of the night I beat you? Clue the world in on the fact that you haven't beaten me. But yet, now you want the world to believe that you're... unstoppable?!

Famine, you've pretty much committed career suicide. I mean, you're talentless, incoherent, aggrivating, and insulting to humanity. But don't feel bad, cause you're not the only one. Bigg Rigg is just like you. He insists on ramming down our throats horrible one liners... idiotic ramblings... and incoherent threats of which he has no way to back up! Famine has been hit in the head one too many times. I really believe he's seriously damaged his brain. He thinks just because he has the World title belt, that he's actually worth a damn.

I really can't wait to prove you wrong this Sunday night. I can't wait to make history and become the World and TV champion. And I can't wait to prove to the world that I am the man on Anarchy. That I am the best wrestler in the World...."

__________--_____________

“You know when you stare at a bright light or accidentally look into the sun and you shut your eyes, you see those bright colors on the inside of your eyelids? And if you rub your eyelids, the colors become more and more vivid to the point where you don’t even need to watch the visualization effects on the Winamp player because it already looks like you’re tripping on mushrooms? Yeah, well they say that shit’s dead cells in your eyeball or something. Crazy shit, eh? So think about killing your precious 20/20’s every time you’re sitting on the shitter, stoned out of your mind and procrastinating from wiping your ass.”

I don’t know. Really.

“Okay, I guess we should make this quick. They say you got eight minutes worth of oxygen on the brain after your heart stops where your brain cells die off rapidly as you go through one of the craziest experiences that you’ll never remember. But because of how much weed you fucking smoke, I’ll say you have about three minutes—four tops—before you die of asphyxia. Though rare, survivors sometimes refer vague recollections of these accounts as ‘life flashing before their eyes,’ but even that isn’t an accurate report of WHAT REALLY THE FUCK GOES DOWN.”

It’s some lame out of body experience. I’m looking at myself surrounded by an abyss, all decked out in crazy Cult Icon gear. I’m even wearing my old school mask, and I’m pretty sure Tony Danza’s face is on my tights.

“What the fuck? You think this would be a cop out on some lame ass self-portrayal? Mother fucker, this is ‘your brain on drugs’-type shit. You and I are completely different, so start using your fucking mouth when you talking to me! Do I look like I want to be Professor X?!”

“what the fuck....?” I manage to stammer.

“Dude, I’m everything you’ve ever wanted to be in your career! I am dashing, daring, and FORMERLY Super Fucking Duper! Iconic-ICE mother fucker, and I’m here to show you why YOU are a fucking BITCH compared to ME!”

“This doesn’t sound like a very fun life-experience, Icon.” I tell him.

“YOU THINK I FUCKING CARE WHAT THIS SOUNDS LIKE?! Look at you, you’re all tactful and thinking too much! What’s the matter with you? Have you forgotten where you come from man!?”

“Do people think Icon-ICE is as over-dramatic as Icon-King?” I ask him.

“FUCKKKK you fool.” He spits on my face. The way it looked it seemed on accident but you never know with assholes. “You think because you’re the King of Jobber-land you’re the fucking tits? That ain’t shit! You can’t even really call yourself the King! Your just the fucking TV champion? That fucking company doesn't even have TV! What channel are they on, bitch?!”

“...........”

“Yeah, dotdotdot is right you cocky son of a bitch! All you’ve done is beat up losers that wil NEVER be in a Pay per view main event. HOW PATHETIC IS THAT! I WAS THE ONE THAT BEAT TRENT TAYLOR, MOTHER FUCK FACE. TWAS I WHOM DEFEATED FOES SUCH AS DEREK HARDAWAY (who is my partner), MASAHARU TANABASHI (who is a joke), AND ICE (who no-showed). I’VE MADE CULT ICON A HOUSEHOLD NAME TO FEAR! LIKE VOLDEMORT OR HITLER OR THAT DUDE WHO RAN DW!”

I really can’t take his screaming anymore.

“Listen, please, shut up...I don’t know what you want from me—”

“You think I want something from you? PFFFFFT fuck that. Man I’m here to show you how to man the fuck up. I don’t give a fuck if you act like you’re not listening, because you will be! YOU DON’T HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE. You know what your problem is? You think you are so fucking smart.”

"And you thi-nk you’ve got it figured the fuck out? All you like to do is shout at things until they’re sick of hearing you.” It’s so hard to keep thoughts and words straight.

“It’s called MAKING AN IMPRESSION, cock-eyes. Maybe you should stop acting a fool and start turning people’s heads for a change! You can’t rely on shit that’s already been done before! YOU’VE GOT TO BREAK OUT OF ROUTINE! The same old shit is going to choke you dry and there will be nothing left but imitation and parody for the rest of your BORING life. Like that whole spinning title thing—what the fuck is that? Mr. Cena wannabe. Start a riot? WOOT CALL FOX FOR EXCLUSIVE COVERAGE! Are you going to do another drug exploitation piece? Or another fight between you and Ellis? Maybe some crazy, odd, one-off adventure that you’ll never finish in your life. Hell, I’m pretty sure someone already did some piece where they were talking to themselves.”

“You’re going to question ME, you fucking piece of shit? I DESTROY LIVES, JUST IN TIME TO WHOOP SOME ASS COME PAY-PER-VIEW. You’re going to tell me what I’m doing is wrong? That I’m unsuccessful?” I’m livid. If I could feel my fists, the nails would be digging into my palms.

“I’m telling you that you’ve got to shape it up, FOOL. You’ve got to change up your frame of mind if you get what I’m saying. No more of this greedy ‘I’m going to fuck everyone over on my way to the top’ shit. You are at the top; it’s time you learn how to stay there. And quit being a fucking pussy and think about everything too much. Jesus Christ it’s like everything is hand-fed to you and all you can do is piss and moan about it in your head with twenty different adjectives. I swear to God I’d think you were a woman!”

“Fuck you!”

“yeah yeah yeah, just remember what I said cunt-lips. You’re going to have to make a change, and it’s gotta come soon. Otherwise, you’re just going to be in line for another series of disappointments—only this time, you won’t be able to capitalize on them.”

I’m about to scream ‘fuck you’ again when I see Ellis kissing me in the sun-filled rain. I don’t remember being anywhere in particular, but, the strange sensation in my stomach and lungs hits me so fast that I cough and throw up water at the same time.

It fucking hurts so bad, coughing up something that isn’t resin-filled mucous. It hurts so bad and I can’t even think about who I was screaming ‘fuck you’ at or even why. Just ‘fuck you.’

El reaches down what appears to be a particular bathtub and messes with the dial, halting the water. I manage to take a clean breath for once and cough up what water was left, as Ellis pulls my head up out of the sea of shower curtains for safe measure.

“Good thing they teach CPR back at the Academy,” she says as if it were a cop-drama.

She continues to rub my back as we both gasp for air, me crumpled on the ground all pathetic, wet and naked.

“You’re the cop,” I stammer. “Mind explaining what happened?”

“I hear a loud bang and I get worried, decide to ask if you’re alright. You don’t answer. I bust in. I resuscitate you. Figure you were out for about a minute. End of story. Are you sure you’re alright?” She says, her eyes much wider for the stoner girl I’ve come to know.

“How come you didn’t think I dropped the soap or something?”

“I save your life and all you can think about are excuses why I wouldn’t be concerned?” She pulls me out carefully and wraps the towel around me as if I were her child, only that isn’t what’s pathetic about this situation. “I’m pretty sure you had a concussion, let’s go check.”

It doesn’t matter what just happened and how I lived because this is one of those eye-opening experiences. It doesn’t matter how indifferent Ellis is or how sarcastic she may be. If our relationship is going to be a soap opera, then sure, I can pick my battles and we can have a bitchfest every week.

But this girl saved my life within a few fucking seconds. ZERO hesitation. If that isn’t a scale of how much she cares for me, I don’t know what is.

For a second, I start to think this. Because my brain is all scrambled and I’m jittery and because I have a flare for being a bit more dramatic than most, I begin thinking about my life. I begin thinking about Ellis and her ego and compromise and it doesn’t seem so terrible. I start thinking of my career and success and how I can maintain it. I start thinking about my life and why I live it.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t have an answer.

That is truly the most pathetic part.

__________--_____________

"... now moving onto Bigg Rigg. You know what, Mr. Gambino has seem to lost his way. He doesn't seem to understand where I'm coming from. Well lemme help him. I don't respect you cause you don't give me a reason to. I listened to your promo and it made me sick. What is it with you and Famine and Malcolm hanging your hat on PAST accomplishments. You run down everything you did five years ago, like it'll make me think that you're great. If this was five years ago, then I'd be worried. But it isn't.

It's 2007.

It's about time you stop using that as your security blanket to hide behind when you're faced with a challenge that you know you can't overcome. Why don't you run down what you've done in 2007? Wait, I'll do it for you..

Nothing.

Cause you simply ain't got it.

But you don't understand that. You think your name alone can get me to fear you. But I've been in the ring with you. I've seen what you can do and you don't impress me. You've shown me no reason to believe you're a legend. And nobody would believe you, if you didn't take the time to go over everything you did against some dinosaurs that are probably dead and by god buried.

While we’re at it, lets get something straight, okay? I ain’t going to pretend I respect you just because you’re supposed to be some kind of legend in the XWF. Fuck that noise, and fuck anyone who thinks I roll like that. I call it like it is, and if you or anybody else can’t handle that... then see me in the ring and prove me wrong.

So before you come at me like your better than me.. actually bring some evidence from this decade that proves it.

And I guess that leaves us with Daniel Malcolm.

Daniel, we've never crossed paths, nevertheless... here I am... there you are... and here we are, squaring off against each other in a Helldome match.

We’ve both been down the windy roads of this business for a long time now. We’ve faced many a superstar, both legendary and unacknowledged, and our various wins and losses prove to the world that we’ve got more experience in this place than most could have ever dreamed of having.

Yet... here I am... there you are... and here we are, trying to prove something to someone once again.

See, whether you know it or not.. we have a mutual friend in this business. Someone that we've dealt with very closely. A man, that at one time or another has defeated now just you, but Famine and Bigg Rigg as well. See, this man has given me all the insider information on you guys and I've sat back and formulated a gameplan to win. This man has already been in a Helldome match and won. So he's told me what to look forward to.

See, Daniel, you believe that you're the uncrowned champion, but you're wrong. That title is mine. And I refuse to wait for 2008 to breakout. I'm already out and running rampant all over the XWF.

So prepare yourself for yet another letdown at Autmn in Hell.

And just to let you know. Any other week, I’d shake your hand. Any other week I'd respect you as a human being… hell, I'd even buy you a round of fucking drinks man. Like I said before, I got nothing against you. But when we’re on opposite corners in the ring it’s a whole different ball game my friend. I’ve worked hard for this to be my domain. All the tough talent I’ve put on their backs... all the critics I’ve managed to hush... every single fucking thing I’ve sacrificed for inside of this ring... it stays with me each and every time I fight, no matter who it’s against. And you my friend, aren't going to get any sympathy, or even empathy, from me. Not until, in that ring I stand proud, as a competitor, you manage to break the fucking barrier and chip away at those cement shoes you’re sportin’. Only then will you have my respect and all five fingers from this hand. Now grow a sack, step up to the plate, and stop being the ‘easy win’ bitch everytime you come back in. ‘Cause, in all honesty, it’s fucking embarrassing to call you a veteran when you ain’t really done shit for the business… except show people how good you are at laying on your back or pounding the mat.

And that goes for you too Famine and Bigg Rigg.

I mean, I'm supposed to be the rookie, remember?"