(The scene opens and the dim lighting and smoke filled air tells us that we're in a bar. The bar isn't all that crowded, but isn't empty either. Suddenly, the door to the bar swings open and in the doorway stands none other than the legend himself...Jack Daniels. Daniels is decked out in a pair of black slacks and a black and gold shirt that he has left unbuttoned all the way down. Daniels slowly walks upto the bar and begins tapping people who are sitting up there on the shoulder and telling them to leave the bar area. And seeing that Jack Daniels will have it no other way, everyone just kindly gets up and leaves the bar. After everyone has left and the bar area is empty Daniels sits himself in the middle. The bartender comes up to Daniels and speaks...)
Bartender: Hey Jack, how's it gong tonight.
Jack Daniels: Everything is just fine and dandy. Well that is, if ya can do me favor?
Bartender: Of course, anything for my best customer. What is is Jack?
Jack Daniels: Ya see, Jack Daniels has got himself a Drunken Brawl Match this Sunday night.
Bartender: Drunken Brawl match? I've never heard of such a match. What is that?
Jack Daniels: Well ya see, Jack Daniels and his opponent, Will "I wish my mom had taken a birth control pill" Haynes, will go shot for shot and then step into the squared circle. BUt the catch here is that we get to choose the liquor for our opponent.
Bartender: So what are you sweating this for Jack? You got this in the bag. You're everyone's drunken hero. You can handle your liquor better than anyone on the face of this earth.
Jack Daniels: Yeah, I know I can. But we're only talkin' Ol' No.7 here. And Will "The poster child for a birth control pill" Haynes, would have to be completely braindead for him to choose Ol' No.7 as my liquor. So ya see, Jack Daniels wants to cover all his grounds. So what Jack Daniels needs ya to do for him is line up as many shot glasses as ya got all along this bar, and pour a different liquor into each. Yeah that's right, every fuckin' liquor ya got up in the shelves, underneath the bar, in the back and especially Will "Over the hill" Haynes' favorite, the liquor that ya mop up off of the floor every night when ya close.
Bartender: Are you sure Jack? I mean mixing all those different liquor might really fuck you up for good.
Jack Daniels: Hey, look at who you're talkin' to...Jack Fuckin' Daniels...the man with the liver of steel. And while you're settin' that up, Jack Daniels will start makin' Will "Doesn't fit the bill" Haynes wish that he never ever fucked with Jack Daniels. Now Jack Daniels can't quite figure something out Will. I can't seem to understand why...just why ya would even agree to a match of this nature given that Jack Daniels is the Drunk One. But ya know, as puzzlin' as that question is, Jack Daniels will do ya one better cuz he's got one that's even more puzzlin'. Just how Haynes...how in the hell did an illiterate bastard like yourself even manage to grip a pen and sign your name on that dotted line? Ya know, it doesn't even matter how ya managed to actually write your name, cuz now the consequences ya face are much more imporatant Haynes. The risks of wakin' up the next mornin' with a fuckin' hangover the size of the Grand Canyon is one ya should be worried 'bout. The risk of never bein' the same 'gain after a match like this is somethin' that should be hauntin' your mind. The risk...no no...the fact that you're gonna be in a match that more than three people will give two shits 'bout cuz of yours truly, should put ya in a celebratin' mood. So drink up Haynes...to ease the pain of a 101 proof ass whoopen.
(Behind Daniels, the bartender has set down about twenty or thirty shot glasses all in a row, and has just filled up the last one. All the liquor in the shot glasses are different. Some are clear, others are gold, others are dark and so on. Daniels moves down to the ebd of the bar and looks down the line of shots awaiting him.)
Jack Daniels: Ya see Haynes, what ya need to realize is that just like each and every one of these shots laid out in front of your drunken hero, you're gonna go down just as quick. *Daniels picks up the first shot which is clear and seems to have small gold particles in it and slams it down* Ahh...Goldshlager (sp?). This obviously can't be your liquor of choice Haynes cuz quite frankly ya got nuttin' in common with it. For one, this liquor has gold all over it. And ya my friend...have no gold, or will never have gold what-so-fuckin' ever. Yeah ya might have won a few no name titles in some bush league feds 'fore. But do ya honestly think that those make a difference? Do ya think people stop and look at ya differently now cuz ya had some worthless piece of aluminum foil wrapped 'round your junkie waist? Do ya think that ya can compare those with this drunken bastard's 23 title reigns...6 of which just happen to be World Title reigns? I don't fuckin' think so. The fact of the matter is, title or no titles Willie...your still what everyone thinks and what Jack Daniels knows ya are...a FUCKIN' JOKE! *Daniels picks up the next shot glass which has a clear liquor in it and slams it down* Ahhh...Absolut. Ya know Haynes, this right here might help ya some. How ya ask? See, we all know just how much ya suck. We all know that in fact it's more like Will "Give me a pill...and I'll suck your dick" Haynes. Jack Daniels knows ya suck...the fans know ya suck...and even more importatnly ya know ya suck. Acutally, you're wrong. You're wrong Willie...the fans are wrong, and believe it or fuckin' not, Jack Daniels is wrong. Ya don't suck. *Daniels looks at the shot glass that he just emptied.* Ya ABSOLUTELY SUCK! And come Sunday night bitch...you're absolutely gonna have your ass whooped like it's never been whooped 'fore.
(Daniels picks up another shot glass and empties its contents right down his throat..and another...and another...and another and slams the last galss down.)
Jack Daniels: Startin' to have second thoughts 'bout this match Willie? It's quite alright ya see cuz there ain't no one...and Jack Daniels means NO ONE who can handle their liquor like this drunken bastard. No, not even ya Haynes. Don't think you're foolin' Jack Daniels for one second bitch. All these years...all this time...ya always wanted to be like your drunken hero. Ya were always the type to wrap his lips 'round someone's ass and see where it would lead ya. Ya came into FTW, tryin' to be hardcore...tryin' to be violent...tryin' to be like Jack Daniels, but ya see there's only one. They say that imitation is the sincerest form of a compliment. Jack Daniels says it's just one more fuckin' reason to hand ya an ass whoopen and a half. And ya must remember, it doesn't matter what liquor ya come up with for this drunken bastard to drink. It doesn't fuckin' matter if ya bring your A game or not. Cuz in the end, the result will still be the same...your beaten, bloodied, junkie body lyin' in the middle of the ring, lookin' up at your drunken hero with his arm raised high in the air. And then and only then will ya realize one simple fact that many have over the years...and that's just why...
(Daniels turns his attention back up to the bar and takes down the next shot in line...and then the next...and then the next...and then........OH MY FUCKING GOD! Daniels just slammed down every last shot that was placed in fornt of him by the bartender. That had to be at least twenty five or thirty shots. Daniels signals the bartender for one more shot. The bartender comes over and pours out a shot of what else...but Old No.7. Daniels picks it up and holds it front of the camera as he speaks...)
Jack Daniels: Ya know Haynes, ya might be able to handle all those shots that this drunken bastard just took as well. But ya see, there's one that ya can't handle...and Sunday night, ya will realize the one that ya can't handle is none other than Jack Daniels. *Daniels takes the shot of Old No.7 down and slams the glass on the bar.*
Till then...MOTHERFUCKER!
(And with that, the scene fades to black...)