We are taken outside of JM Studio in Los Angeles, California. It's a relatively nondescript looking building, down a back street in an industrial area near LAX. There aren't many people around aside from a rough looking homeless guy. IIW backstage interviewer Larry Fishburg walks up, with a camera man in tow. Larry looks at his camera man as they walk towards the front door.
Camera man: Are you sure this is the place?
Larry: I'm pretty sure this time.
They walk past the homeless guy who reaches his hand out.
Homeless guy: Hey mista. You got a few dollars?
Larry stops and reaches into his wallet and pulls out a card.
Larry: Here you go sir. I know times are tough, but with this you'll at least be able to buy a meal for tonight.
Homeless guy: An Applebee's gift card? The fuck man. I wanna buy some crack, not crappy chicken wings
Larry ignores the homeless guy and walks through the front door, into a small reception area. Stepping into the building leaves Larry with no doubt that he's in a porn studio. The walls are adorned with posters from various pornographic movie released by the company. Each poster has a picture of a scantily clad woman or two and have titles such as "They're Not Real," "Grinding Nemo," "My Big Python and the Holy Grail," and "Stick It Where It Doesn't Belong 24." Larry walks up to the front desk where a receptionist sits. She has a look that says "all business." Her black hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. Her ice cold blue eyes are accentuated by her blue wire rim glasses. She is wearing a black pants suit and white blouse. From what little exposed skin she has, Larry can make out that she has a few tattoos concealed. A name tag on the desk in front of her says Eva Ridge. She looks up at Larry.
Eva: Can I help you?
Larry: Yes, I'm here for an interview with a Mr. Jack Mei Hoff.
Eva looks up at him with a look of disgust.
Eva: Please tell me you aren't here hoping to be in a movie.
Larry: Well, I do have a history as a an actor, and I'm always looking for a new gig. In fact, I always keep a copy of my head shot with me.
Eva rolls her eyes, grabs a clip board and hands it to Larry.
Eva: Fill out this paperwork, and we'll get with you when we can.
Larry takes the clipboard and reads over it. He lowers his glasses and his eyes go wide when he looks at it.
Larry: I must say, I've been a backstage interviewer for a while, and this is the first time I've ever needed to fill out a questionnaire to interview someone, let alone a questionnaire about my sexual preferences. And, I don't know what water sports are, but they sound fun, even though I'm not a very good swimmer.
Eva let's out a sigh and takes the clipboard away from Larry.
Eva: You should have told me from the start you're a wrestling interviewer. Mr. Mehoff will be out to see you shortly.
Larry just stands there for a second confused, before a door bursts open and a big breasted blonde wearing only a medical gown comes storming out. She is Kelly Lingus, American porn star.
Kelly: Damn it Jack. I told you if I'm doing another Human Centipede parody, I was not going to be part of the Centipede again.
She is followed by FTW Domain Champion, Jack N. Mehoff, wearing doctors scrubs.
Jack: But Kelly, it's for art. It's about a scientist becoming obsessed to the point where it leads to his destruction. Like Frankenstein.
Kelly: Jack. I'm not doing it.
He smiles at her and gives her a look as he gently brushes her hair back.
Jack: C'mon. Do it for me.
Kelly: Fine.
Larry walks up to them.
Larry: HI. Mr. Hoff, I'm Larry Fishburg, from IIW. I'm here to interview you about your upcoming match in the Ice Crown Tournament.
Jack: They sent the janitor to interview me?
Larry: Well no, I'm not the janitor, I'm the lead interviewer. My boss sent me down here because he saw you in the footage and wanted me to interview you. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions... If that's alright.
Jack: Make it quick. I've got a scene to shoot.
Larry: Ok. First of all, why have you entered the Ice Crown Tournament?
Jack: To shove it in the face of anyone who doubts me or tries to call me a joke. I don't care about winning it for a title or for glory. When I win this thing, I'm going to take that crown, use it as a prop in a porn parody of Frozen and bust a nut on it.
Larry gets a grossed out look on his face.
Larry: Well that's incredibly vulgar. Don't you think you should have more respect for something so many great wrestlers are competing for?
Jack: Oh please. This is IIW we're talking about here. The only cast off from this company I have any respect for is my tag team partner in Team Donkey Punch, Curtis and the guy who stole one from me, Clyde Newton . I look at the guys in this tournament I'm familiar with and there's guts like Ed Stoker. The biggest accomplishments of Eds career were beating Anorexia into submission, getting banned from every buffet in New Jersey, and eating the world's largest hoagie.
Larry: C'mon now. It isn't very nice to be talking that way.
Jack: Then there's Xavier Lux. What type of steroids is he on to cause his head to grow so huge?
Larry: Oh, come on now. We drug test people in this company and that's just wrong.
Jack: You better watch yourself or I'll have you replaced.
Larry: Are you kidding me? I'm a world class journalist. Who could you replace me with?
A technical difficulties screen pops up snd a few seconds later, Larry is gone and he has been replaced by the homeless guy he passed outside the building earlier.
Homeless guy: So moving on, Jack you're undoubtedly going to win that tournament. Dou you have anything to say to your opponents?
Jack: Oh, you bet I do. Crushy, Crushy. I have to say that this whole time we've been in FTW, I'm a little disappointed the only retort you ever had against me after all the crap I talked about you and your wife, is calling me a clown and then beating up an actual clown.
See Crush. I'm like that herpes sore your wife gave you. I'm not going away. I'm going to continue to be a bother to you until you actually do something about it.
And then, there's Russell Wayne. Who in the blue Hell are you? I tried googling you and the only results I got were a one man band from Detroit, and a guy running an investment firm. Neither one looks like you, so what's your deal? You look like you're trying to be the cool dad. Did you enter the wrestling business to try to impress your step-kids or something? Anyways, whatever. All I know is if you wrestled in IIW, you can't be that special.
Seriously though, if IIW wants to send some jabroni to my office to try getting a promo out of me, I'll give them one. Follow me.
Jack starts walking down a hallway with the camera man following, leaving the homeless guy behind. Jack enters a door labeled Stidio A. It's pretty much a large empty room with metal walls, except for a wrestling ring that any fan of IIW would recognize. If it's not the actual ring, used at countless IIW events, it's a pretty darn faithful recreation of it. Jack slides into it and looks toward the camera.
Jack: Who would have ever dreamed you'd see this? Legendary porn icon Jack N. Mehoff standing in a IIW ring? You're probably asking why a talent of my caliber is bringing himself down by competing in a failed company like this. It all breaks down to proving something. I've already proven that I'm one of the best in the world in FTW, now it's time to prove it in other places.
And frankly, FTW is filled with IIW cast-offs who fled a sinking ship, and many of these guys are acting as if their IIW accomplishments mean something. Like they once scored four touchdowns in one game. I had to put up with Xavier Lux, running his big mouth on his big head about a title he held. I have to put up with Crush carrying around his Global Championship like he's one of those pathetic marks wearing a belt to a convention. I can't go one week without hearing someone talk about how they faced this guy in IIW, about how they won that tournament in IIW, about how they had sex with an ugly ring rat in IIW.
Simply put, IIW is dead, and it's time to cut dead weight and focus on the future. That's why I'm standing in this ring, right now. This ring was the sight of so many memories, so many moments, and there's only one appropriate thing to do.
Jack turns his back to the camera, and the camera pans down to Jack's feet. A stream of some liquid is squiting onto the ring apron. It starts to form a puddle. Jack turns back toward the camera. He is holding a bottle of lighter fluid in his hands. He tosses the bottle, pulls out a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. He smiles to the camera, puts the cigarette in his mouth, lights it, takes a puff and flicks it toward the puddle of lighter fluid in the center of the ring. A fire starts with a small flame, but quickly grows in size. As the ring starts to burn, Jack climbs out of it and casually walks away. After 30 seconds, the fire starts to spread across the canvas, sending a column of smoke upwards. Before long, the entire ring is consumed by flames as the scene starts to fade to black.
Jack: Hold on. I'm not going to end this promo on such a dark note. This is the holiday season. We should be playing holiday music and having a good time.
As the ring continues to burn behind him, the Heat Miser song from The Year Without a Santa Claus starts to play. Jack gets a wicked smile on his face.
Someone from offscreen tosses Jack a old style skimmer hat and a cane. He puts the hat on and starts singing and dancing to the song
Jack: I'm Mister Green Christmas,
I'm Mister Sun.
I'm Mister Heat Blister, I'm Mister 101.
They call me Heat Miser whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
I'm too much.
Chorus: He's Mister Green Christmas, he's Mister Sun.
He's Mister Heat Blister,
he's Mister 101.
They call me Heat Miser whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
He's too much.
As the chorus is singing, Jack puts a marshmallow on the end of his cane and holds it up to the ring, where the ring ropes are now burning.
Jack: Thank you.
I never want to know a day
that's under 60 degrees,
I'd rather have it 80, 90, 100 degrees!
Oh, some like it hot, but I
like it really hot! Mwahahaha!
Jack holds a finger to his side as if indicating how hot he is.
Chorus: He's Mister Green
Christmas, he's Mister Sun.
Sing it!
He's Mister Heat Blister,
he's Mister Hundred and One.
They call me Heat Miser whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
I'm too much.
Too much!
Jack starts laughing like a lunatic ad the song comes to an end, the ring continues to burn snd the scene fades to black.