*James White is standing in the lobby with mic in hand as the show comes back from commercial.*
White: I'm standing here with the new Hardcore Porn Champion, Balls Nasty. How does it feel to be a champ again, Balls?
*The camera pans over to show Balls Nasty wearing a suit and tie with the championship belt slung over his shoulder. He takes the mic from James and pushes him out of frame*
Nasty: James, you can just get the fuck out of here. No one's paid their money to listen to you flap your gums. They are here to watch me change the face of the RDCW. Last week, I took this belt out of the hands of Bastardo's pet chihuahua, El Superbeastiality. Look all you want around the Cheesedome tonight, and you won't find him. Not in the ring. Not in the locker rooms. Not even out back feeding in his favorite dumpster. El Superbeasto is MIA. And it's not because the I.N.S. finally shipped his ass back down to the Burrito Belt. No. It's because last Tuesday, I gave him a first hand lesson in pain and suffering. I taught him the meaning of hardcore. I lifted his fat ass up and brought him crashing back down with a devestating Camero Cut. Now I wear the gold, and he wears a cast.
At this very moment, he's sitting in his little bed, watching this on TV, wondering what happened. I'll tell you what happened, El Superbeasto. You entered that ring not as a champ but as a pet. Louise tugged on your leash, and you came running in. Just another one of his bitches let out of the kennel. When you run with losers like Howlerama, Charlie, and Johnny Evil, you become one of them. You become one more beggar pleading for the scraps off the big boys' plates.
Well, I'm on my own now, El Superbeasto. I beg for nothing. I take what I want, and I've taken your belt. I fight with the power that I've unleashed within myself, and with that power I've broken your body. And I did it all on my own. Remember that, El Superbeasto. While you lay at home having your diaper changed, remember who put you there. Remember the face of the man who tamed the beast.
