(The scene opens to Las Vegas Nevada, home of the highly anticipated High Stakes, presented by the CWA. The scene opens to some studio. The camera pans one set. We see total mayhem. A cameraman is going insane, yelling out instructions and orders while taking snapshots. The camera turns away from that set and quickly comes across another set in the studio. Here, things seem a bit more calm. As the camera zooms in we can see none other than Jack Daniels with a cast of characters, but who they are, we really can’t tell. Anyway, let’s cut to the chase here and see what Daniels has in store for us.)

Host Jack: Hello, and welcome to the very special documentary titled, "Haywood Jublome, This Is Your Life". That’s right, this is a very special piece put together by none other than yours truly, Jack Daniels. So, sit back, relax and grab yourselves a bottle of Ol’ No.7 and enjoy the show.

Since the very beginnin’, Haywood Jublome was a man of honor…a man of pride…a man of success. Winnin’ numerous titles, tournaments, and accomplishing all that he has in such a short period of time. Not many men have been able to follow in Haywood’s footsteps, nor has he followed any. Settin’ new standards as he moves along with his successful career. But they may all be comin’ to an abrupt halt cuz this Sunday, one of Haywood’s biggest tasks stares him right in the face. Possibly one of his biggest matches in his career and possibly the last as it just might all crumble in the end for Haywood. This Sunday night, Haywood has the honor of once again, goin’ One on One with The Drunk One. The first person I’m gonna bring forth here is the very first man ya went toe to toe with in this circuit when ya first set foot in the NYSWF. That’s right, I’m talkin’ ‘bout none other than Jack Daniels.

(Daniels turns around for a moment and then turns back around with a bottle of Old No.7 in hand and ready to speak…)

Jack Daniels: Shit, I remember that match. Hell, it was the first time that everyone in this circuit, includin’ this drunken bastard. He stepped in that ring like he was tuff shit, but the fact of the matter was he wasn’t anythin’ but shit. Hell, we went toe to toe and twenty minutes later, Jack Daniels came out on top. But to be completely honest with all ya, cuz I know that’s what ya all want, the bastard tried to bribe this drunken bastard with some ol’ No.7. Hell, his offer was quite intriguin’, but there ain’t nuttin’ that this drunken bastard would trade in for a good ass whoopen. And that’s exactly what that m*therf*cker received that night…one helluva ass whoopen. I started his career off in this circuit with a bang and Jack Daniels is sure as hell gonna see to it that he ends it the same way.

Host Jack: Now, while in the NYSWF, Haywood would normally parade ‘round with a bunch hobos that went by the name of Ghetto Warriors, then the No Limit Soldiers…then back to the Ghetto Warriors…you get my drift. Anyway, among those men, the leader is one that Haywood really took to, his name was SmirtDogg. That’s right Haywood, here’s your former best friend, partner, enemy, hell, ya get the idea.

(Suddenly, a man enters the picture. Hold on a second…that’s…that’s…SMIRTDOGG! Or is it? The shot is a bit blurry so it’s really hard to tell. ?SmirtDogg? pulls out the golden microphone and begins speaking…)

?SmirtDogg?: Haywood…Haywood…Haywood…how long has it been? Remember those good old days Haywood. How could you forget, I mean you would be attached to my ass so much, you would think that mustache of yours were my ass hairs. Shit, I never knew anybody that could kiss so much ass. But hey, I used the bitch and played him for a fool. From day one, Haywood thought he was one of us. But the fact of the matter is he was nothing but a mark ass busta. He thought he was accepted by the Ghetto Warriors. BULLSHIT! Haywood dropped the ball. Just take a look what he did when I left for a short period of time and left him in charge. He led the Ghetto Warriors, the No Limit Soldiers, whatever you want to call them, straight into the ground. And then it was all dumped on my shoulders. I had to bring us all back from out under the ground. And not only did I do that, but I brought us to levels unheard of. But Jublome, he just kept holding us back. It all culminated in the NWW when we had our career match. Now don’t think for one split second that you won that match because you were the better man that night. Not by a long shot bitch. Fact is I wanted out from the NWW for a long time. But there was no way that Eckert would grant me my release. No one in their right mind would. That was the only way for me to get out and I did just that. You thought you knew it all Haywood but the truth is, you just don’t know the half of it. Au revoir, bitch.

(?SmirtDogg? walks off the set and Host Jack walks back on as he begins speaking…)

Host Jack: Thank you Smirt for those hard felt words. Now, let’s move on to another stage in Haywood’s career. Here, we have a man that has also been a large part of Haywood’s career, Jack Reed.

(Suddenly, Jack Reed walks out into the picture, well at least someone who looks exactly like him. Who cares, let’s just listen in and see what he has to say.)

?Jack Reed?: So Haywood, I’m surprised to see that you made it this far. Why do I say that? Anyone as crooked as you would have been scraped off the mat by now and tossed into the trash. You have gotten the better of me and I sure as hell have gotten the better of you on several occasions. But I will never live down the day. The day of the BoB2 tournament finals. How you beat me is beyond my belief.

(Suddenly someone else enters the picture…it’s…it’s Ryan Monk. Wait a sec, close enough. He sure as hell looks just like Ryan Monk, the man who made the Best of the Best tournaments possible.)

?Ryan Monk?: Jack, Jack. Take it easy, bro. I didn’t want to have to tell you or anyone for that matter, but I saw you here ready to attack anything in your path. You see, the BoB2 finals were…were rigged man. And I feel like shit about it but I had to let you and the rest of the world know. Haywood didn’t stand a chance against you or anyone else.

?Jack Reed?: What the…? WHY?

?Ryan Monk?: It was purely business Jack, nothing else. You see, I needed help…big time opening up Beach Side Pro Wrestling. I really didn’t want that asshole’s help but then he hit me with an offer the Monkster couldn’t refuse. The BSPW Sunny Bunnies. He offered them to me and I knew that they would serve their purpose for ratings. So not to make him feel like a complete loser, I had to keep him around and let him win the tournament.

(They both leave the scene and Host Jack re-enters shaking his head in disappointment. He looks up into the camera and begins speaking…)

Host Jack: Now that we have covered somewhat of his crooked career, why don’t we take a look at his private life and his childhood. The next person I have for you here Haywood is none other than the priest who delivered Haywood’s fake death.

(A man wal;ks out onto the set and is dressed in all black and the little white collar thingie, indicating he is a Priest, of some sort.)

Priest: I have committed a sin so great, I may never be forgiven. But yet I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t say no. The man MADE me deliver the sermon for his fraudulent death. How a man could stoop so low, only God knows. He threatened me and threatened me because he had nowhere else to go and because everyone would buy into it if a priest like myself delivered the services. Haywood, how anyone can stoop to something so low…so wrong…so deceitful, I will never understand. And for your ill mannered actions, I hope you burn in hell.

(The priest is literally grabbed from off the set and taken away as he was about to go ballistic. Host Jack Re-enters as we anxiously await to see what Host Jack has for us next.)

Host Jack: Now, why don’t we get a little deeper into Haywood’s personal life, his childhood. And what better way than to talk with his…MOTHER.

(Host Jack walks off the set and onto the set walks a somewhat large lady. That’s gotta be Haywood’s mom, and if it ain’t, it sure as hell looks like her. Let’s listen in…)

?Mother Jublome?: How could we have a Haywood this is yo life without Haywood’s momma? Boy, I hope you still takin’ those Flinstones vitamins like I made you take when you were a little punk. What I used to do for this bastard. I used to smack his ass silly cuz the fool would just never listen to his momma. I had to wipe the fool’s as until he was eleven years old cuz he was afraid to put his hand back there. And all the money I spent on buyin’ ya new bed sheets ever damn week. The punk would wet his bed three, four times a week. Finally, I just couldn’t afford it anymore and he would have to sleep in a pool of urine for a couple weeks. I told ya it wouldn’t kill you, now didn’t I. Now good luck son, cuz believe me, you’re gonna need it. The boy could never do anything right. Don’t forget to eat your Chunky soup.

(?Mother Jublome? waddles off the set and out walks Host Jack one more time as he begins speaking…)

Host Jack: My producers tell me that we’re running out of time here, so why don’t we just hurry on along to our next speaker. She is one of Haywood’s first love’s and will give us an intimate, detailed description of Haywood in more ways imaginable, Electra.

Host Jack walks off the set and out walks the ever so lovely Electra…the real deal. Shit, how in the hell did Haywood ever end up being with someone as sexy as Electra? It’s like trying to figure out why the sky is blue. Anyway, let’s hear what she has to say…)

Electra: Ah Haywood, I played you like the fool you are. I never felt anything for you. I never really wanted to be within 100 yards of you to be quite honest. Put Jack put me up to it. And now, he has gotten the better of you. Our plan has worked to a tee so far and it’s all going to pay off come this Sunday night at High Stakes. How can anyone stand to be with you? I guess that’s why you got someone like Lisa. You have to be deemed mentally insane to have anything to do with you. You couldn’t satisfy me. I have no idea how you could satisfy anyone for that matter with all of your one and a half inches there(Electra extends her pinky to indicate you know what). I could go on and on for days, but I think I’ll leave that up to my man Jack Daniels to take care of…

(Electra walks off the set as the camera just follows her off. Host Jack walks back on and has to signal the camera to get the shot back on him.)

Host Jack: Good call Electra. Why don’t we go back to the man that started it, ‘The Drunk One’ Jack Daniels.

(Host Jack turns around, picks up his bottle of Old No.7 and transforms back into good ol’ Jack Daniels. He takes one of his trademark swigs, looks back into the camera and begins speaking…)

Jack Daniels: Hell, there’s no better way to end it Haywood then with the man that started it. The very first bastard in this circuit to hand ya your first loss is gonna be the very last human bein’ ya see on the face of this earth. Now usually, this drunken bastard likes to talk a big game and hell, most of the time he’s able to back it up. But this time, Jack Daniels ain’t just gonna back it up Haywood. Jack Daniels is gonna see this sunuva bitch all the way through and into next f*ckin’ week. Ya see Haywood, ya’ll be damn lucky if ya leave the MGM Grand in an ambulance. Why ya say? Well ya see, the way this drunken bastard sees it, if things go as planned, ya’ll be leavin’ in a f*ckin’ hurse and end up in the local morgue. Ya though what Jack Daniels did to ya last week was painful? Ya thought what Jack Daniels did to ya last week was CRAZY?! Nah bitch, ya ain’t felt pain yet. Ya ain’t seen crazy yet. But ya see, this drunken bastard can’t tell ya just how crazy he’s gonna get. He can’t tell ya just exactly what he’s gonna do. It sounds like this drunken bastard has had a few too many bottles of Ol’ No.7, but it ain’t that at all. Oh No. Ya see, this drunken bastard just doesn’t know what he’s capable of when Sunday night rolls ‘round Haywood. When it all comes down to me and your sorry ass in the MGM Grand, in that electrifyin’ atmosphere, with all the marbles all the line, Jack Daniels just doesn’t know what he can and will do to ya Haywood. What does that mean for ya? Hell, it can’t be good news for ya cuz we’ve all seen just what this drunken bastard is capable of this past weekend and every other weekend for that matter. Jack Daniels could go on and on and on for days ‘bout how hardcore he is…’bout how tuff he is…’bout how f*ckin’ crazy he is. But this drunken bastard figures that ya should know that by now. Ya should now that and the fact that ya my friend…ya are gonna need a F*CKIN’ MIRACLE to walk out the MGM Grand alive, let alone the winner.

Last week…last week ya though ya were so damn clever. Ya thought ya could go one on one with The Drunk One in a falls count anywhere match. But ya bit off more than ya could chew Haywood. Ya just added fuel to this fire and it burnt your ass to a f*ckin’ crisp. And after this drunken bastard beat ya from pillar to post…from urinal to urinal…from the ring to the road outside…and then when a speedin’ car took both of our asses out, ya realized that ya were beat and beat damn good. So what did ya do? Ya had to try…that’s right, TRY, and get the better of this drunken bastard in the damn hospital. And ya still couldn’t get the job done, could ya? That’s where ya went wrong Haywood. That was the biggest f*ckin’ mistake in your pathetic life. Ya failed to get the job done. Ya left Jack Daniels breathin’ and cravin’ his Ol’ No.7. Ya had the opportunity of a lifetime to put an end to a hero…a legend…a f*ckin’ icon…Jack Daniels. Hell, ya had more opportunities than anyone could ever ask for. How many times have we gone toe to toe in the middle of that ring over the past few years? About eight, maybe nine times. Hell, I’ve heard of three strikes and your out, but what the f*ck is this? Polish baseball? Whatever it is, the fact of the matter remains that ya had more than your share of chances bitch. Much to your belief, Sunday night ain’t your last chance Haywood. Ya see, ya had your last chance and that was this past Sunday night at the CWA Center. And just like always, ya failed to get the job done. But when this Sunday night rolls ‘round, Jack Daniels is gonna be all over your ass like white on rice…like a Mexican on the back of a landscapin’ truck. Face the facts Haywood, ya have to go one on one with The Drunk One at a game ya can’t win…a Stretcher Match. That means no rules, no DQ. That means an all out brawl…something that ya just can’t go toe to toe with against Jack Daniels. This is my type of match. This is my game. And guess what? Ya just can’t win. It’s gonna be game over for ya ‘fore ya’ll be able to blink an eye.

(Daniels pauses for a moment to take a swig from his bottle of Old No.7. He wipes his mouth and then begins speaking again…)

Haywood, what’s it gonna take for ya to realize what you’re in for this Sunday night? What’s it gonna take for ya to realize just how f*ckin’ much deep shit you’re in? What’s it gonna take for ya to realize that your career…your life is in jeopardy here? Hell, I guess it’s gotta be a helluva lot cuz it’s damn hard to get shit through that thick skull of yours Haywood. Hell, I guess it’s gonna take an ass whoopen and a half courtesy of Jack Daniels for ya to realize that Sunday night just might very well be the last night that ya step into a squared circle…the last night that ya take a breath…the last night that ya ever f*ckin’ remember. Either which way Haywood, the bottom line is that you’re gonna wish, for the rest of your pathetic f*ckin’ life, that ya never…eeeeeeeeeevver f*cked with this drunken bastard. And when it’s all said and done…when all of the smoke is cleared Haywood…when that last drop of piss warm liquor touches this drunken bastard’s lips…you’re gonna realize foe the very last time just why…

Haywood, Sunday night is gonna mark the beginnin’ of the end for ya. It’s gonna go down in the history books as the day Haywood Jublome’s worthless, pathetic career came to a screachin’ halt. And it’s all gonna be at the hands of yours truly…Jack Daniels. Adios…Au Revior…Sayonara…or in the words of The Drunk One…

Till then…BITCH!

(Daniels takes one more trademark swig from his bottle of Old No.7 as the scene fades to black…)