*The scene opens and we find ourselves in an unknown area. All we see is filth. Run down houses and apartments with lawns made out of garbage and filth, streets with potholes, broken down cars with missing tires and busted glass parked on the side of the streets. And if that's not enough, the people of this area are even worse. Little kidsare gathered in the twon pool which is made up of an old bathtub filled with water, some obvious drug dealers on the corner of the street with some crackwhores yelling "I'll suck yo dick for some blow", and some filthy hookers that you wouldn't even dream of touching with a ten foot pole. Suddenly, as the camera pans all of this, we see a sign reading "Welcome to Staten Island". What we are doing here, we have no idea. Suddenly, we hear a noise of a bottle being kicked down the street. It stops right in front of the cameraman. The camera focuses down on the bottle, which is a forty of Old English. Then two feet step right by the bottle. The camera pans up and low and behold, it's everyone's drunken hero, the man who could drink ya under the table and then put you though it...Jack Daniels. Daniels sticks out like a sore thumb seeing as he is dressed in a pair of black slacks and a gold silk shirt left unbuttoned...and of course, his trusty bottle of Old No.7. But enough of that, let's all watch the best in the business and see how it's done.*
Jack Daniels: Jesus Christ! What is this filth. I mean it's not 'nuff that these people got garbage and filth for lawns, cars without engines, a bathtub for the community pool and crackwhores on every damn corner. But they gotta put up with this? *Daniels reaches down and picks up the empty bottle of Old E* They gotta drink this crap? Forties of Ol' E? Damn. Now this drunken bastard knew that Logerfo came from the ghetto part of the neighborhood, but this shit redifines is beyond ghetto. Hell, bein' a bum in this place is like livin' the life of luxury.
And how ironic it is Logerfo, that throughout your entire wrestlin' career, ya have had the hard life. Ya have been battlin' down there with other no name bums, battlin' out, takin' anythin' ya could get. Ya would take a match with Papa Pia faster than a bum would take a dollar from someone. Ya would scrape the very bottom of the plate...just lookin' for somethin'...anythin'. And then ya got it. Ya hit pure gold. Ya got yourself none other than this drunken legend. Well congradu-fuckin'-lations Logerfo...cuz ya just killed any momentum ya might have had goin' into the mid-card status. What made ya think that ya could step up to Jack Daniels and immediately place yourself at the very top of the NWW? What made ya think that ya could make a name for yourself by goin' one on one with The Drunk One? What made ya think...that ya could even handle a round of Jack Daniels? What do ya think period Logerfo? What runs thorugh your mind when ya do the thing that ya do? Now Jack Daniels doesn't know the answers to these questions...but this drunken bastard figured if he couldn't answer 'em...then maybe, just maybe the people that know Matt Logerfo best could.
*Daniels approaches a hooker that is standing on a street corner.*
Hooker: What can I do for you big boy? Five to suck...ten to swallow.
Jack Daniels: Say what? If anythin', ya should be payin' the person who fucks ya. But listen, this drunken bastard ain't here for that. He's got a couple of questions for ya.
Hooker: Ok, but I charge ten for that too.
Jack Daniels: Bitch please, ya should be payin' Jack Daniels for even acknowledgin' your existence. Now, Matt Logerfo...ever heard of him?
Hooker: Oh yeah...little Matt. I remember him, why?
Jack Daniels: Why do ya call him little Matt?
Hooker: Why the hell do you think? *The hooker extends her pinky finger up in the air*
Jack Daniels: Well, we all had an idea 'bout that seein' as he has no balls.
Hooker: You know, it doesn't surprise me one bit he's a wrestler. Cuz after we'd get done, he'd always beat on me cuz he said he couldn't beat anyone else. Made him feel like a man to fuck my brains out, which felt more like a 3 year old boring me to death, and then to beat me up.
Jack Daniels: So basically what ya are sayin' is that he couldn't get it on with no one else and couldn't beat anyone else up even if he tried. Gee, some help ya are...we already knew this 'bout the sorry bastard. Fuckin' worthless whore...
*Daniels walks away from the hooker as he takes a swig from his bottle of Old No.7 and continues walking*
Jack Daniels: Now I know exactly what you're thinkin' Logerfo and actually, I know exactly what's gonna come up outta your mouth. *Imitating Logerfo* Well I beat yo ass fore Daniels. I even pinned yo bitch ass fo a three count. I punked yo ass out each week. I beat the legend. Now I be the legend, I don't give a shit what anyone be saying, you can't beat me foo *End imitation*. When are ya gonna wake up and smell the coffee Logerfo? Puttin' my drunken head through a car window doesn't constitute of ya beatin' me. Attackin' Jack Daniels from behind and spittin' liquor in my face to blind me for the quick advantage doesn't mean ya can kick my drunken ass from pillar to post Loggy. Ya see, that's not gonna be what people remember Loggy. They're not gonna remember the time when ya took that pool cue and rammed it on my drunken balls. They're not gonna remember the time when ya put my drunken head through a car window or even when ya treid to run me down. What they're gonna remember is what's 'head of us this week...the steel cage match. What they're gonna remember is the big payoff match. What they're gonna remember is Jack Daniels whoopin' your ass like there's no tomorrow. What they're gonna remember is all the blood that is gonna pourin' out. What they're gonna remember is that Jack Daniels is gonna be the ultimate victor in this. And what ya are gonna remember Logerfo...what you're never ever gonna forget is that...
What's the matter Loggy? Ya heard that 'fore haven't ya? This drunken bastard will bet ya have, but the fact of the matter is that ya have yet to be the one to realize that. But let Jack Daniels re-assure ya that once ya step in that squared circle with this drunken legend, not only will ya realize that everyone's drunken hero ain't to be fucked with...but that YA ABSOLUTELY SUCK!
I mean look at ya. Ya couldn't even take down a shot of Ol' No.7 without spittin' it out. And why is that Loggy? Ya thought ya were smart, didn't ya bitch? Ya spit it out in my drunken mug to get a quick advantage, makin' it seem that ya were just tryin' to get one over on Jack Dnaiels. Well newsflash bitch...no one gets ons over on the drunken legend. Jack Daniels might not know the real reason ya spit it out, but he's 'bout to find out.
*Daniels takes one last swig from his bottle of Old No.7 before finishing it. He throws the bottle aside and then steps through a door and into a liquor store. Daniels walks up to the counter where a man is standing there.*
Liquor Store Man: What can I get for ya?
Jack Daniels: Ya can start with a bottle of Ol' No.7.
Liquor Store Man: We don't have any of that stuff.
Jack Daniels: Watch ya talkin' 'bout liquor store man? What the hell do ya have then if ya don't carry the greatest liquor on earth?
Liquor Store Man: We got forties of Old E, Moonshine, and boxes of wine.
Jack Daniels: Alright forget 'bout that for a moment, this drunken bastard needs to ask ya some questions. Ya know Logerfo?
Liquor Store Man: Logerfo? Oh yeah Matt, yeah he grew up around here, how could I forget the bastard? What about him?
Jack Daniels: Between ya and me...and oh yeah, that cameraman, what does that bastard like to drink?
Liquor Store Man: He likes wine.
Jack Daniels: *Ready to bust out laughing* WINE?!?! Ya gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me.
Liquor Store Man: No I'm not. He also like Peach Schnapps.
Jack Daniels: Now that doesn't surprise this drunken bastard. For one, it explains why he just can't take down one shot of good Ol' No.7. And two, he prolly thinks downing this weak shit will eventually grow him some peach fuzz on his balls. *Turning to the camera* But that day is still not here Loggy. Ya may talk up a storm like no one else and make claims and say how ya can beat the livin' shit outta anyone. Hell, a little two year ol' drunkaholic can say all that stuff to. Does it mean he can do it though? No. And as for yourself Loggy? Not by afuckin' longshot.
Ya have absolutely nuttin' to back ya up Loggy and ya know it. You're playin' with an empty deck, while this drunken bastard has got himself a royal flush. What...you're gonna use the fact that ya pinned Jack Daniels in an improptu match that wasn't sanctioned by the NWW to your favor? You're gonna go 'head and brag 'bout that? Be my fuckin' guest Loggy. Cuz the fact of the matter is what counts is what lays 'head of us this Tuesday night. Ya and the Drunk One inside a steel cage. There's nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. And even more importantly, there's no one to run down to the ring and hand ya 'nother victory. Bottom line Loggy, no matter what ya say...no matter what ya do...it all boils down to one simple result for ya...two little words couldn't describe your fate on Tuesday night any better. Logerfo...YOU'RE FUCKED!
Till then...MOTHERFUCKER!
*Turns back to the liquor store guy* Now back to business. Ya got any moonshine?
*And with that, the scene fades to black.*