It didn’t matter that the entire matter was legal. Growing up in a society such as the United States created an eternal feeling wariness in the young Shawn Christopher, being that he was a frequent drug user in his recreational time. There was always a need to watch your back for concerned citizens and cops with a penchant for violence.

That type of feeling carries over, even in countries like this where it is completely legal. This paranoia, coupled with the amount of Absinthe he took earlier, wasn’t exactly the healthiest combination. Making drug deals inside an everyday store was not where he pictured himself this week. The claustrophobic feeling found him once again confined in the small Smart Shop, the walls littered with figures of Jerry Garcia, Trey Anastasia, Bob Marley and Dean Martin. Yes, Dean Martin loved mushrooms.

Throughout the entire process, from asking for the shrooms to paying for them to actually receiving them wrapped in a cute little drug bag, Shawn thought that a SWAT Team would be repelling from the rooftops, kicking in the large store-front windows with machine guns pointed at their heads in possibly the most unrealistic drug-raid of all time. Paranoia was hitting him bad. The look of the shrooms wasn’t exactly soothing either. It looked as if someone picked tall and skinny mushrooms in their backyard, dried them out, and decorated them with gold flakes. The caps were small and stout with a collage of colors that looked similar to a raku-fired piece of pottery.

“If you go to Amsterdam,” his friends said, “Make sure you try these mushrooms.” Then they’d pull up a picture on the internet. The mushrooms Shawn purchased and the ones he saw in pixels looked one and the same. That affirmation hit him in the stomach, it was a bit overwhelming.

“OELKA ALJS GUNTAB.” Said the store clerk. Actually, he said Relax, or you’ll have a bad trip but the thick accent was too much for Shawn to understand. Frightened by the foreigner’s comments, he snatched the bag from his hands and ran out the door to escape all the irrational fears haunting the Smart Shop. He didn’t understand a thing about the culture, even certain aspects of a topic he thought was so universal (drugs), and sought it best to find a more comfortable setting.

Making his way out of the Red Light District, off-duty Cult Icon came across a hole-in-the-wall breakfast diner and sought it suitable to eat there. Being the only patron in the restaurant Adam had the exclusive right of precedence. He chose a corner table and ordered a glass of orange juice. The old wives’ tale for Mushrooms was that vitamin-C always enhanced a person’s trip. What Shawn didn’t know, as he began munching on the fungus, was that he didn’t need any enhancements for this trip. This was a ‘balls to the walls’ type of deal.

His teeth would grind up and down on the dried texture. As the saliva would coat the mushrooms, they would become stickier and softer. If caught on the wrong part of your mouth, it could have been vomit inducing. Most newbs like to use peanut butter when eating their mushrooms in order to help with the taste. Shawn wasn’t a pussy, he liked that shit raw. Even if it meant getting all the sticky and gooey chunks stuck in the depths of his bicuspids; that just meant more hallucinogenic treats for later when his tongue could worm them out.

If you’d never taken them before, you’d swear you were chewing unsalted pumpkin seeds. That’s the best way to describe the taste and texture to a person who hasn’t eaten them. These were a bit different, though. The stems and caps began to flake off in his mouth in fine threads that felt like splinters. Some would stab his gums and create a irritable feeling in his mouth, but Adam didn’t find this strange. He just finished his one-eighth-of-an-ounce sack, and downed his glass of orange juice in a matter of seconds.

And then he called the waiter back.

“I think I’ll have an order of flap-jacks, please.”

____________--_____________

The following promotion is brought to you the "Cross Killer", and the man who holds the one title that everybody seems to think is uneccesary, only because they know that none of them can take this title from him. But it's alright, because if the TV title is taken away, then all that will happen is that he will come after and take the rest of the titles in the XWF. Not because he needs to.. but because no one can beat him. Cause let's be honest, he's already beaten Bradley Pierce and Daniel Malcolm has one more time to show up on his show unannounced, and he wil drive the arch of his boot in that angel's ass. But enough about losers who will never be as good as the Cult Icon... let's get to the Feature Presentation.

The scene opens during a dark, but relatively dry morning in London. The camera captures early commuters driving through the streets, shop owners opening their businesses, and the sounds of late-migrating birds chirping in the background. The scene then changes its focus to a pair of dogs, a Doberman and a greyhound, sitting in front of an electronics store. The dogs are strays, but are actually quite clean. There is a window in front of them, which has several TVs in the window. The TVs are showing the most recent promo by one Devlin Cross. The dogs, amazingly, are awake and watching.*

Cross Video: … Who else can say that they single-handedly eliminated everything in their path as quickly as Devlin Cross! And last week, did you SEE what Devlin did to your SO-CALLED champion, Shawn Christopher! Holy CRAP ON A STICK, people!

Almost in unison, the dogs begin to snicker. Even dogs think that this is the lamest promo in the history of bad promo. There have been some stinkers in history, including anything Brad Pierce comes up with. Nothing, however, tops this Devlin Cross masterpiece as the sorriest promo ever. Enough talk about promo, because in a minute…the unthinkable happens.

Doberman: Jesus… that was quite possibly the worst promo I have ever seen in my entire life… and that includes the ones by Daniel Malcolm.

Greyhound: You ain’t lying… thank God us canines are immune to falling asleep from boring television segments.

Wait a tick… how can this be? Dogs can’t talk! Even if they could, how could two dogs have such clear thoughts, and why would then be talking about the XWF? Well, friends, if you believe that Devlin Cross has a chance against SC this Sunday night at Bring The Pain, then you should damn sure be able believe that dogs can talk. Anyway, back to the story. Just then, the image on the television changes from a Devlin Cross promo to a breaking news alert.

Anchor: Ladies and gentleman, this is Guy Ritchie reminding you to tune in to Fox 11 for your six o' clock morning news. Topping our list of news items today is the sudden onslaught of comas that occurred yesterday. An estimated 1,500 people simultaneously slipped into comas, which is an unheard event in all of human history. Police chief Jeff Tambelleni said, “This is absolutely insane. I have never seen anything like this in all of my life.” The victims, mostly retarted children, were all watching television around 4 PM yesterday afternoon when they slipped into the comas. It is not yet known which television show was being viewed at the time. In unrelated news, Xtreme Wrestling Federation employee Devlin Cross aired one of his first nationally broadcast promos last night, and it got horrible reviews. It was said to last a total of two minutes, after which many unfunny jokes were made. Said one viewer, “It was almost bad enough to put you in a coma.” All of that, and more, is coming up in fifteen minutes.

Again, the two dogs snicker. They then leave the electronic store and begin to walk down the street.

Greyhound: Seriously… what is that human’s problem? He’s boring, he’s untalented, and not to mention mentally handicapped. Plus, I’ve seen more charisma in an empty box of Corn Flakes.

Doberman: I know exactly what you mean. He thinks he doesn't have feelings now? Well he should watch one of his own promos… it’ll feel like he’s just been knocked out by a brick wall!

The greyhound pauses in his tracks, and the Doberman does the same. The greyhound looks blankly into the eyes of the Doberman.

Greyhound: That was a bad joke, Dobie. It might have sounded good in your head, but it was about as funny as a Daniel Malcolm’ Universal title reign. The sad thing is that as lame as that joke was, it was certainly more entertaining than any part of that douchebag Cross’ segment. If all retarted people are like that, they deserve to be stuffed in their basements, full of gasoline, and lit on fire.

The two dogs resume their journey down the street, each wagging his tail with delight that a new day has come.

Greyhound: But in all seriousness, Devlin Cross sounds like a shitty name. If your crowning accomplishment is beating a stink-riddled midcarder and several other losers who could fill a toddlers jock strap, then times aren’t looking too good for him.

Doberman: Meh… he's not that bad. After all, he did come from ACW.

The dogs then stop in their tracks and the Greyhound looks at the Doberman. They both then break into laugher as they continue their stroll.

Greyhound: ACW! Now that was funny.

Doberman: It sure was.

Greyhound: But really, Cross has done nothing but take Anarchy down, as he is simply all of that negative history personified.

Doberman: I totally agree with you on this. It’s funny how he thinks he’s actually got a chance against the Cult Icon. Doesn't he realize that SC hasn't lost a singles match yet in the XWF. Cross is all but done, and then he can run back to that fat life partner of his and cry.

Greyhound: I wonder where he got his helmet from…

Doberman: Yeah… I’ll pop a squat on his fucking helmet.

The dogs share another laugh at the expense of Devlin Cross. They then continue their walk down the Washington DC street.

Doberman: Doesn’t is strike you how incredibly slow this guy is? I mean, Cross is just the epitome of unintelligence. Fucking Cross… with his run-on sentences, his made up words, and his “breed of one of a kind.” It makes me just want to say to him, “Hey dumbfuck! How can you have a breed of one of a kind?” If a breed consists of things that are the same, and one of a kind insinuates that you have no equal, how can you have a breed of one of a kinds?

Greyhound: Hell, don’t ask me. I’m still trying to find out why this walking colostomy bag doesn't talk for himself.

Doberman: I think it’s because he has a remedial education. The guy walks around with a helmet for Christ's sake!! I'd be surprised if the guy can count to one.

Greyhound: Yeah… someone should remind Devlin that monsters aren't real.

Doberman: Monsters are real!

Greyhound: Right… and Lassie was a virgin!

Yet another joke from the two Hounds of Comedy. Dogs Playing Poker don’t have anything on Dogs Telling Jokes. As the jokes continue, so does the voyage of these two dogs. There’s no particular destination in mind…the voyage is simply made for the sake of walking.

Greyhound: This Cross character sure is in over his head. It’s like the San Antonio Spurs vs. the Cleveland Cavs. It’s like the New England Patriots vs. the Detroit Lions. It’s like…

Doberman: …like Daniel Malcolm vs. every main event superstar over the past year?

Greyhound: Exactly! It’s going to be an ass whooping of unseen proportions! SC is going to manhandle Cross like a Chihuahua at a pit bull party. The Cult Icon will spare no move, take out all the stops, and leave no part of Cross' body in tact. Man, woman, and child will all get some sort of joy out of watching the American Juggernaut take out the Retarted Piece of Trash!

The greyhound goes to look to his friend. But, the Doberman isn’t there.

Greyhound: Dobie?

Doberman: Over here, mate.

The greyhound looks back and sees the Doberman standing over a fallen newspaper ad that is hyping the XWF event that is being held in London. Half of the ad depicts SC, and half of it depicts Devlin Cross. The Doberman is urinating on Cross half of the paper.

Doberman: Sorry. All of this talk about how bad Devlin Cross is made me a little frustrated. When I saw his face on this ad, I just had to take a royal piss on it.

Greyhound: Good call. But look dog… I’ve got to get going. If I don’t get home, the old lady is going to get pissed. You know how much of a BITCH she can be when I come home late.

Doberman: Understandable. Well… until tonight, pal…

Wow, these dogs are on today. The jokes were great, the emotion was heartfelt, and the segment was very entertaining. These dogs had the total package working for them. Who would have thought… two dogs taking part in a great promo like this? It doesn’t say much when two stray dogs make for better entertainment than Devlin Cross. Just close the book on this one, Devlin. Just close the book.