Robbie Bourbon has found his Dunkin Donuts ill prepared to handle his on-the-spot proclamation that free coffee and donuts would come to anybody who showed up, and thus must muster more donuts for his franchise.

Oh, and lots of promos were cut, but Robbie is still just a few moments after his last promo, but we'll just chalk any responses Robbie has to that particular snooze fest up to time travel, or psychics, or time traveling psychics.

SSDD

We open to see Robbie seated in the driver's seat of the Donkey Kong rape van. He seems focused on the road ahead of him, most likely leading to more donuts as he promised the employees of his Dunkin Donuts franchise.

He fiddles around with his phone, mounted on one of the vents, and watches all the lovely promotional content provided him by his opponents and the crack XWF production team. He's seen chortling here and there. The first promo he watches is from Trax. After it finishes, he looks dead ahead.

So, you're pissed I didn't cut enough promos against Doc and Trump? Damn, I figured that by now, Trax, you'd know full well the weight of work done here in the XWF isn't in front of the camera pre-match, not what you say post-match, but what you actually do in the ring. I'd say the fight I put up on that ring spoke for itself, but if you think winning a match happens anywhere but in a match, well, keep thinking that. You want to cry that I took up too much valuable time NOT tagging you in, but that I was lazy. Son, there's being a hypocrite, and then there's just flat out sounding like a monkey shit sucking, two-dollar hooker fucking, ancient rock-hard booger plucking, eats that thing in his mouth while the true fucking XWF Hart Champion he is ducking self contradicting dipshit, trying to hype himself up, trying to get into his own head that he can win when it counts against the man who's been winning consistently since last summer, with few exceptions. Keep telling us all how you were, how you once were the hottest commodity in the XWF, and how you got pushed out of that picture by a real athlete. A real fighter. The realest deal in the XWF going today, and baby, I'm going now, Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon.

Shit, are they recording right now?

The camera zooms out to show Blue is seated in the passenger seat of the Donkey Kong rape van.

Well, yeah, they're shooting right now. I presume. Sometimes I just talk to myself in case they are. Hell, remember that week where they broadcast my dreams?

That was weird.

Meh.

Well, does Caedus know the XWF production staff broadcasts dreams?

Oh, damn, you mean he didn't?

Maybe he has a point, what exactly did you do for him if you didn't even fill him in that his very privacy was pretty much a wash? Did you even let him know that his promos dated a full week after today could be viewed by you?

Honey, all of that is in his contract.

So? Some people just have a hard time reading the fine print, even through beady little eyes and too much hair and...

And what?

Fuck it, just watch.

Blue fiddles with Robbie's phone, and Jim Caedus's promo, the one where the little guy talks about Robbie's girlfriend while doing his damnedest to do a Robbie Bourbon impersonation. After it finishes, Robbie grins his own shit eating grin, though this one much cuter than Trax's standard shit eating grin, though not as dedicated to shit eating as Scatbear's shit eating grin.

So?

So what?

You want to have a little whoopy time with Jimmy Caedus, babe?

Ugh.

Robbie starts to laugh as Blue rolls her eyes.

From the looks of things, Jim, what I did for you is pretty plain to see; I showed you how to work the microphone. Strong work, you sounded just like me if I never had a backbone, external testicles, or finished puberty for that matter. Keep it up, I'm sure one day you'll sprout a hair or two above your Vienna Sausage sized tickle stick, until then you're kind of outmatched by the kielbasa. Honey, would you prefer a Vienna Sausage or a kielbasa?

Neither, don't be fucking gross. I like you because of who you are and what you do. Jim echoing your bombast without having walked a fucking fraction of a mile in your shoes makes him sound like a fucking leaking balloon.

Honey, his voice has always been that high pitched. Jim Caedus is doing his best to sound like he's got a ghost of a chance facing me after I carried him past round one, but that soft, dulcet choir boy voice of his, while charming, just doesn't put the fear of God into me. It's cool and all that he can dead lift two-ninety.

Robbie is jiggling with silent laughter. Blue looks at him.

What's so funny?

Well, what, am I supposed to feel frightened and terrified that he has to pick and choose what he's capable of doing to me in the ring? Hell, even Trax could tell him a thing or two about 'regular moves' or some such. Jimmy, I know you're trying really, really hard to sound really, really hard before coming into our match, but a word to the not-so-wise; poker face that shit. Seriously, it isn't like I'm going to struggle to do anything I want to do to you in that ring. Robbiebombs, suplexes, slams, Robbiebombs, wedgies, wet willies, putting your hand in warm water after you fall asleep, more Robbiebombs, all of that being done to a little doll with a string coming out of it that when I pull it, tries to sound something like me, only the me that was made in China by a bunch of tweens hoping for an extra serving of grasshoppers or whatever slave labor eats. I mean, kudos, you're pregaming for your match and all, but you're just scouting yourself, not me, and as you've noted, I've been scouting you ever since you set foot in the XWF. Every step, every word, every breath, every match, I have had an eye on you, keeping a look out to make sure your psychotic, pathetic self didn't try to hurt someone outside of the ring.

Tell me, Jimmy, are you just bitter that I haven't been answering my phone lately?

Honey, he's fucked enough already...

Nah. Seriously, Jim, tell the Universe about the way you blow my phone up, about the fact my voicemail is now full because of you, prattling on, wondering if you're good enough, if you have what it takes to compete here in the XWF, wondering what you should do next, begging and pleading for me to give you attention, to throw you a god damned bone, to show you how to be a fucking XWF Megastar who rocks the house from coast to coast, slinging rhymes like he slings bodies like he slings jelly on toast, how to be the man with every fucking right to boast. If you stop my breath then you'll get your ass kicked by my ghost. Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon cooking up a Jim Caedus roast. I'm the Wednesday Night Wrecker, you're just a wee bit wispy, I'm the straight up original, you're getting burnt like extra crispy. Call the Colonel, eleven herbs and spices, I'ma leave you worthless just because I'm fucking priceless. If your wife were still alive, she'd be schlicking it to Robbie Bourbon, if your dad were still alive, he'd be beating it to Robbie Bourbon, and I'm more than certain you'll go back to pulling your pud over me in no time, Jimbo.

You wonder why I praise Trax? Because most likely his voicemail is flooded too, just like most of the boys in the back. I'm pretty sure if we had a pool going, the "who does Jim Caedus dickride the most" pool, I'd win it, hands down. Just like I'ma win come Warfare.

Shit, are you seriously going here?

Oh, I went there, hon.

No, jackass...

Blue points forward, at something beyond the camera. The camera zooms out to show the Donkey Kong rape van pulling into a parking lot.

You came here?

The camera zooms out further to show that both Robbie and Blue have arrived at Krispy Kreme donuts. On one of the windows, in bright green spray paint, someone has tagged the establishment so it says "DUNKIN DONUTS RULZ". A police cruiser is parked outside, perhaps perpetuating the stereotype of American police and their penchant for killing minorities eating donuts, perhaps responding to the flashy vandalism.

Yeah.

I don't think this will work.

Hushabee.

Robbie and Blue step out of the van and begin to walk into the dread rival of Dunkin Donuts, Krispy Kreme. Immediately, an employee of the establishment points at Robbie, wide eyed, as the officers turn.

That's him! That's the guy!

Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon, at your service.

One of the officers furrows his brow. The other approaches Robbie.

So, Bourbon, did you do this?

Robbie reaches into his wallet and pulls out a strange card and shows it to the officer.

Yes, sir, I did indeed. I have a licence to do so, this falls under the category of criminal mischief and, also, corporate espionage and sabotage, both of which I am an expert at and fully trained to do so.

The officer looks at the card, and in the daylight coming through the windows, pulls out a flashlight to redundantly shine on the card before handing it back to Robbie.

Welp, looks like this checks out. Let's go, Bill.

Okay, Mike.

Bill and Mike, the cops, leave the establishment, as the Krispy Kreme employee looks on flabbergasted.

But, wait, he...

The police walk out the front door, patting Robbie on the back for the good work he's done in a perfectly legal manner. Robbie approaches the employee.

Hi.

What do you want? You already defaced my store!

Wanna collab?

Collab? What the hell does "collab" mean?

Collaborate! It's the latest craze, even Trax and Jim Caedus have collaborated!

Who?

Exactly, a couple of no-names.

Wait, shouldn't you collab with Scully?

Robbie shudders. His eyes shut tight, looking as though he's going to puke the kind of puke that happens after huffing a whole can of dust-off.

Look, whatever Scully and I do, well, Scully and I do. It'll be more interesting than Trax and Jimmy stroking each other off, trying to convince one another that I am not the reason either of them are teamed up right now, rehashing fat jokes that I've heard a million times before, claiming I'm not a man of the people, saying I'm just a comedian, explaining to the whole god damned universe that they will, in fact, be getting wrecked by a fat guy with a sense of humor and my partner, whom I believe has multiple personality disorder, which would explain his shifts from being from Florida to being English to being to being a champion. The only difference being Jim Caedus gags on C.J.'s massive Brooklynese dong and Trax is flossing his teeth with Jim Caedus's Angel Hair pasta thin phallus.

Damn.

Damn is right, my friend. Now, I'm giving away free donuts at my Dunkin Donuts, only we're running out.

So tell people it's only while supplies last.

Robbie rolls his eyes as Blue smirks.

I told you so.

Robbie purses his lips, looking less than pleased.

Look, fellow donutsmith, we provide the people with a much needed boost of coffee and, well, super fatty deep fried carbs covered with sugar. Delicious super fatty deep fried carbs covered with sugar. Can you dig it?

I can dig it, but my manager will be really mad at me if I just gave away all the donuts to the guy who harasses us every week. The phone calls we get telling us you'll put deer ticks in our dough, the weekly graffiti saying how awesome Dunkin Donuts is compared to us, and you guys don't even offer hot and fresh glazed donuts that melt in your mouth, and I'm pretty sure you smash the men's toilet with a hammer every month.

It's a battle axe, and look, I have a license for that. What you need to do, though, is look past yourself, and look at the bigger picture. You aren't doing this for me, you're doing this for the people.

That makes no sense! Look, I've kind of heard of you, besides you being a terror to the local Krispy Kreme, you're actually a pretty good guy, fighting crime and all, but this is a stretch.

I'm fighting hunger. Let's end world hunger together.

You're not feeding starving Ethiopians here, you're giving away free donuts!

If starving Ethiopians showed up, I would give them free donuts. Can you say the same?

Yes.

Promise!

Absolutely, I promise, if starving Ethiopians showed up, I would give them free donuts.

Robbie immediately pulls his phone out and plays around with it.

What, uh, what are you doing?

Social media-ing.

That's not a verb.

Sure it is.

Robbie holds his phone up and we are privy to the selfie view he's using to record, capturing the Krispy Kreme employee in the background.

Universe! Bourbon here, letting you know that not only am I giving away free donuts, but at the local Krispy Kreme if you bring a starving Ethiopian you get a free donut too!

No, that's not what I said!

So you won't give starving Ethiopian children food?

I will, just...

Krispy Kreme is the place to be for starving Ethiopians.

Stop it!

They won't help me feed the people!

Damn it, alright! You can have some donuts!

Robbie fiddles with his phone as he puts it away, and we revert back to the crack XWF production staff's mysterious omniscient camera.

Sweet, I'll take eighteen dozen glazed, thirteen dozen Boston Kreme...

The employee facepalms, reaches into his pocket, and hands Robbie a set of keys.

Just take the truck out back.

Attaboy. What's your name?

Lucas.

Okay, Lucas. If you get fired for this, come see me at my dojo. I like your, um, whatever. I would just feel bad if you got fired because of my shenanigans.

My father owns this franchise!

Same difference. Later, thanks for the donuts.