Schizophrenic: "Are you ready for this?"

Smiling, I light up one of my Marlboro's. "I've been ready since the match was announced", I reply. The former member of the AWA Originals giggles for a minute before I continue with, "There is no possible way that I'm going to lose this match against Swingo. Hell, if it wasn't for me, he wouldn't even be here. He'd still be in CWA running around acting like he's worth something."

Of course, this isn't really how I feel about the kid. He's actually got a lot of talent, and can hang with the best of him. If he couldn't, he would not have been selected as a representative from Universal Carnage Enterprises... of which was ran by Clive Windsor before it closed. If somehow I get complete control of this match, I'm going to make sure I make Swingblade look good too... I can't find it in my heart to be a complete douchebag like some of these other wrasslers.

"But alas, he's a rep from UCE. So I won't be able to take him too lightly", I re-assure my good friend from a long time ago. I open the door, take one last drag of my Marlboro, and extinguish it on the gravel pavement laden around what will now be called the Oval of Odd... due to the many characters that seem to be swarming around this trailer park.

Schizophrenic: "Alright then.... have fun! I'll be watching from my car. I can't see myself getting out there and interacting with a bunch of rednecks..."

Laughing, I reply with "Haha. Sounds good man. See you after it's over."

I close his door swiftly. Now it's time to kick it in to second gear... I show my face to the residents of the trailer park -- giving off the aura of a grueling wrassling and fighting machine. The essence of my persona emulates a professional that is strictly about the point of the matter... which is to eliminate Swingblade from this round and move along with the Bar Room Brawl going against Magnificent, Not Amp, Jewish-Stud, Mental Martin, Freeze, or Frank Hooligan (I think).

Swingblade: "You ready?"

"Been ready", I quickly retort.

We circle each other a few times. Both of us take notice to our environments for future reference -- just in case an opportunity comes around to use one of their tail pipes, a chair, a broken or loose bottle of Budweiser, or a shank made out of the metal springs from an old urine infested couch that is sure to be laying around here somewhere.

I look to the right of me and notice a crowd of African Americans taking a seat next to an elderly woman. Swingo does the same, but to the left, and sees a guy with half of his teeth rotted out of his head swapping saliva with a younger more obese female... also with the same dental problems.

No matter what happens in this round, there is no possible way that I am ever going to visit this place again. I refuse to do it. If you could see what I see right now, you would be horrified -- you might even vomit just at first glance of the environment that I have been placed in by Clive Windsor.

It must be revenge for me treating him like a piece of crap the entire time he was a CiT... the whole thing with Rellik and us being toyed with like puppets in a game. Blah.