*The scene opens and we find ourselves inside a local bar. The clouds of cigarette and cigar smoke are evident in the dim light provided. The bar has a decent crowd, most of the bar stools occupied, while others are standing around either shooting pool, throwing darts or just standing around shooting the shit. The cameraman pans the bar a bit until he hits the end of the bar and the person occupying the last bar stool. Or should we say the drunken legend occupying the last bar stool...yeah you guessed, it's everyone's drunken hero...Jack Daniels. Daniels has his trusty bottle of Old No.7 ringht in front of him. He picks it up and pours some into a glass. He picks up the galss and drinks it. Suddenly, a young guy comes up next to Daniels and sits down. He looks at him once and then does a double take and begins to speak.*
Mark: Hey...you...you...you're Jack Daniels...ain't ya?
Jack Daniels: Guilty as charged.
Mark: Wow...I can't believe it's you. You're a God...
Jack Daniels: A drunken God at that. So ya want an autograph or somethin'?
Mark: Actually, if you got a minute, I wanna show you something I've been working on. You know how you drink bottle after bottle of Old No.7? Well, I've been working on something myself. *Turns to the bartender* Gimme a bottle of Stoli. *The bartender hands a bottle of Stoli to the mark. The mark picks up the bottle.* Bottom's up. *He begins chugging the bottle, he chugs and chugs and after about one third of the bottle is chugged, the mark comes up for air.*
Jack Daniels: This drunken bastard doesn't get it.
Mark: Don't you see? I'm working on chugging a full bottle...just like you do.
Jack Daniels: Yeah, but that's like pure water. Look at that shit...Stalin or whatever the fuck it's called. Is that supposed to impress this drunken legend?
Mark: Well no, not impress you but...
Jack Daniels: Well congradulations then, ya succeeded. Here *Daniels grabs his half full bottle of Old No.7 and pulls out a gold marker. Daniels signs the label of the bottle and hands it to the Mark.*
Mark: Wow...thanks.
Jack Daniels: Ya see, that's the problem nowadays 'round here. Ya got these rooks comin' in left and right. They pick up a quick dubbya or two, and next thing ya know, they're either demandin' a World Title shot or think they're the greatest thing since sliced bread. Case in point with this drunken bastard's opponent this week...Damien Cross. Well guess what Cross...there's only one TME in the NWW and he's the self proclaimed greatest thing since sliced bread. As for yourself, exactly what are ya? Hell, this drunken bastard is tryin' to figure that out himself.
But Jack Daniels can tell ya exaclty what ya ain't. First and foremost, ya ain't no drunken legend...ya ain't no Jack Daniels. That's just a given. There ain't no 180 wins under your belt. There ain't no 26 titles under your belt. Hell, there prolly ain't no male genitalia under your belt either. But that's for ya to know and for some unlucky guy to find out.
*Daniels signals to the bartender who brings Daniels another bottle of Old No.7. Daniels opens it and takes a swig from the bottle and continues speaking.*
Jack Daniels: Ya see Cross, let this drunken bastard explain somethin' to ya. For ya...this here is the biggest match in your career. And as well it should be seein' as how you're gonna go One on One with The Drunk One. There's no greater honor than that...plain and simple. It's a leap up the ladder from takin' on no names like Orlando Williams and jackasses like Johnny Blaze. All of a fuckin' sudden, ya got yourself the opportunity to leap right up the ladder and be right at the top by beatin' Jack Daniels. Now this drunken legend normally would wish ya a good-fuckin'-luck, bein' the good ol' drunken basatrd that he is. But ya see, the fact is ya don't need no luck Cross. Yeah, let Jack Daniels say that once more...ya don't need luck Cross.
Ya need a FUCKIN' MIRACLE!
There's a church right down the road Cross. And more times than often, this drunken bastard would be there right now tryin' to pick ya up a miracle for Wednesday night seein' as how you're gonna need one. But quite frankly, this place has got better liquor.
Why isn't Jack Daniels showin' ya any respect? Real simple jackass...cuz ya don't deserve any. This match between your sorry ass and my drunken ass is a perfect example of why the NWW, once the best damn fed out there, is quickly headin' down the toilet. Ya got two guys, who have absolutely nuttin' in common...who have never had a match with each other...who have never come in contact with one 'nother...who never have even mentioned each other's name. So why not take these two guys, and throw 'em in a match? Gee, what brilliant ideas. Let's give one undeservin' sorry sunuva bitch an opportunity of a fuckin' lifetime and lets give the other drunken bastard someone's ass th whoop. Actually ya know, now that Jack Daniels thinks 'bout it, it's makin' more sense than ever seein' as how all that's gonna happen is the whoopin' of Damien's ass. And seein' as how he's fresh from New York, this bastard should be used to just that.
But what ya should get used to is let down Cross. Cuz ya see, let down is what your NWW career is gonna be all 'bout. After comin' off very impressive...and Jack Daniels means very impressive...wins over Johnny Blaze and the Lyin'...and Jack Daniels does mean the lyin' on his back Orlando Williams...people seem very impressed. Kinda how like Jack Daniels was with that mark tryin' to act like everyone's drunken hero. But ya see, Jack Daniels ain't impressed with your sorry ass Cross. The only way ya can impress Jack Daniels right now is by actually showin' some balls and brains...takin' your NWW contract, rip that sucker up and head right back for New York, suck Collins dick to hand ya a title ya don't deserve...and save yourself an ass whoopen and half, courtesy of the one and only...the one who knows how to do it best...Jack Daniels.
Yeah, Jack Daniels might say that to just 'bout every opponent that comes his drunken way, but what ya don't understand is that ya have yet to be treated like your supposed to be treated. You're a rookie as far as Jack Daniels and everyone else on the NWW roster is concerned. You're the new guy 'round here...still wet behind the ears. And no one...no one has yet to give ya the treatment. No one has yet to fuck 'round with ya until ya get so paranoid, ya buy a pair of extra eyes and put 'em on the back of your head. No one has yet to give ya an introductory beatin' like ya should have received. Jack Daniels went thorugh it...and now it's your turn bitch. And no, don't think for one second it's cuz you're god's gift to wrestlin' or some stupid shit like that. It's cuz ya haven't said hello to your little friend...Jack Daniels. *Daniels grabs a shot glass and pours out some Old No.7 in the shot glass*. Go 'head Damien...go a round with Jack Daniels. No one said ya can't. Only question is...CAN YA HANDLE IT? In four simple words...
Now don't say that this drunken bastard didn't tell ya so. Just say...Jack Daniels...shot for shot, the best damn quality ass whoopen out there. And ya get to witness that first hand on Wednesday night Cross...
Till then...BITCH!
*Daniels picks up the shot glass, looks at it and is about to throw it, but then stops, shrugs and chugs it. Shit, why should he waste any liquor? Daniels picks up his bottle of Old No.7 and begins chugging away. Now that's impressive! Fade to black...*