Robbie Bourbon will be teaming up with Trax again for the first time in well over a year to face off against Chris Chaos, another man both he and Trax will face in the Chamber at Wild Card, and Radical Reno, the doofus who couldn't hold the Xtreme Title for a day after going to Hell and back to get it. Good job.

Meanwhile, XWF personality (and all around douche) Donald Trump recently was elected President of the United States.

PLAY THE TRUMP CARD

We open to see the White House. It's an unseasonably warm day for November in the District of Columbia, and the sun glares down on the busy Pennsylvania Avenue portion that is blocked off to vehicle traffic located right in front of the White House. Protesters of all sorts form a cavalcade of political pandering wants and needs that could, should, or would be fulfilled if the people were represented as accurately as they feel they should be. Perception is truly reality, after all.

We go into the Oval Office, and we see Barack Obama sitting with Donald Trump. Trump seems a little apprehensive, perhaps because like a dog chasing a car, he had no idea what he'd do if he actually got here, and now is left with not only a huge legacy of not working with others within his own party, but also alienating millions of other Americans.

Well, Donald, you buttered your bread, now you have to eat it. Now, I'm not saying...


that I won't work with you. I feel it is my duty as President of the United States to...


help you usher in even more prosperity for the American people. However, not many are looking forwards to assisting you in the transition, so...


I had to call upon some very special people to help you get this done.

Trump: You know what, Barry, that's great. You know why that's great? Because the people are going to get the best of both of us, which is great. It's huge. It's magnificent. When the people get the best, the people win, which is great.

I know, Donald, I know. That's why...


my guys are going to help you transition.

The doors to the Oval Office open, and in walk Robbie Bourbon, Joe Biden, Vice King of the Jobbers, and Smashdyface McFace, Islamic terrorist what had his face smashed in with an axe. Trump looks up in shock.

Bourbon!

Before he can say anything, Joe Biden has a roll of duct tape out and is taping Trump's mouth shut, wrapping the tape around his head several times. Smashdyface sits on his lap to keep him in place. Obama stands.

Excuse me, gentlemen, I see you have...


everything in hand here. I have to go see my daughters about lunch.

The President excuses himself and leaves the Oval Office as Trump is left bound on a couch by Joe Biden and Smashdyface McFace. Robbie sits in the chair behind the President's desk.

I miss this chair.

Take the wheels off, Robbie, make this douche nugget use a chair from the 80's!

No, Joe, I'm not ruining the President's chair. We are, however, going to help Mr. Trump prepare for his presidency.

Smashdyface says something inaudible due to his face being smashed.

No, killing him isn't a good idea. You ever hear of Mike Pence?

Smashdyface says something inaudible due to his face being smashed.

Oh, he'll comply, for sure, ain't that right, Donnie? See, most people can't lay a single finger on one of those few hairs on your head, but me, I'm just a coworker. We share a cubicle down at the violence factory, ain't that right? Now, the American people have spoken, and they chose you, I won't debate that. Nosirree. However, as the leader of your transition team, well, we need to make a few changes.

Robbie starts to clack away at the keyboard to a laptop he was opening while talking at the restrained Trump.

See, you want to be on money, some day. You want your face on the one dollar bill. You want to transcend just presidency, and leave behind a legacy. You want to be historic. Well, first things first, we're getting rid of your Muslim hate provisos on your official platform right now, so the people know you aren't really going to eliminate Islam in the United States.

Robbie clacks away as Smashdyface excitedly bounces on Donald Trump's lap. Trump giggles from the playfulness of it all through the tape as Joe Biden pulls out a syringe. He sticks it in Trump's neck.

Okay, now that that's out of the way, we're here to help you make good decisions and preserve the Union. Joe just stuck you with a ton of black tar heroin, so you'll be flying for a few hours while we get to work keeping shit in tact around here.

Trump passes out as Smashdyface jumps up. Joe Biden starts to tie a tourniquet around his own arm.

Joe, no! Don't do that!

Why the fuck not? I'm a grown man, I make my own decisions!

Joe, no. The white pony isn't something to ride, you just call it out to show from time and again. You don't want to fall into hardcore drug abuse like Gabe Reno.

Joe looks down.

I can't believe Trump is fucking President.

Well, nobody can, but leave the heroin to him, not us. We're getting shit done here, not fucking around. Taking point, kicking ass, turning shit around, getting shit done. Blam.

You sound kinda hyped.

I am! See, everything is getting topsy turvy around here. For starters, I'm partnered up with Trax, who still calls himself Mr. Dominance after getting tossed out of a ring at Sun Don't Shine like he was yesterday's news, and let's be honest, he is yesterday's news, by me, your friendly neighborhood Robbie Bourbon. Then he whined, and complained, and still calls me deceitful and sneaky, just paraphrasing Vinnie Lane after Trax used a 24/7 case on him. In 2016, Trump is president and dominance is being insecure to the point of fingerpointing and not even being original about it, apparently. I love it, even the hypocrisy that's oozing off of Trax, it's like up is down and black is white. The shit is hitting the fan, and when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. Bring on the turmoil, the dissension, the outright lunacy of if all; Trax and Bourbon, together again, so much tension a feather could break glass between the two of us, fuck me, this is what I live for! The moments, the times when life becomes magnified, the whole world slows itself to get a view of what's happening, and what's happening has been a long time coming. Wednesday, we're together, and Trax, a man who some say won the Tag Titles singlehandedly, is the greatest talent in the XWF because Robbie Bourbon, the man who defended the Tag Titles singlehandedly, is on his side. At Wild Card, though, that changes, because as long as I'm in the ring and we're competing, Trax, you'll always be second best. I will never stop showing the world that.

And the thing is Gabe doesn't get the scope of any of that because he's busy pouring idiot powder up his nose while ripping off Tush's old production values.

The headline reads Robbie and Trax plotting attacks while watching their backs, not two flash in the pan hacks teaming up just for snacks after breaking each other's backs on Savage. Man, you're a flighty one, Gabe, you really should steer clear of the blow. You did say one thing that rang true, though, one thing worth noting, and that's that greatness is never known until it arrives and is shown. It's very true. The people know who Trax is, former XWF Universal Champion. The people god damned well know who The King of the Jobbers, the High Holy Hypocrite, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon is. You, though, you're just the loser who had the night of his life at Sun Don't Shine, who peaked as you like to put it, then dropped the Xtreme Championship like a bad habit, only you like holding on to those it looks like, so we'll just say that the most accurate way to describe what happened was a loser lost after not losing once.

Lucky for you, though, I'm a nice guy. Since you're new, mildly autistic, and ultimately boring the fuck out of my Universe, I figured I'd address your problem. You know, about how you need to get Nancy that Christmas Card that wasn't boring. It's pretty intriguing, you getting your only named loved one a card. I got my girlfriend a car. Maybe a touch lavish, since we're not even married yet, but hey, if Nancy has low standards, and let's be honest here, she's got to have pretty simple standards to have anything to do with your silly ass, so be it. So, let's write out that pretty, pretty Christmas card just for Nancy.

Dear Nancy,

You truly have the patience of a devout nun. Gabe seems like he can be a handful at times, especially when he gets so excited he forgets to excuse himself for the bathroom and just shits his pants in public. He tries really hard, doesn't he? Well, not hard enough, and he's pretty darn flighty at times. Like all those times he spends a measly twelve seconds on your clitoris before getting distracted by the thought of ducks, or the concept of the color green, or his own hands. I know you must put up with a lot of Gabe's need to be with others sometimes. Not the actual women he claims he gets or hires to walk around your home, because like the Peter Gilmour he tries to be, he gets as much female human vagina as the average jock strap. No, because Gabe did harken back to his happy days of puberty while calling me a nerd, so we all know that Gabe still has that first sock. The sock, Nancy, the one he tells you to never clean, the one he looks at every Valentine's Day. Gabe is that sock, in a sense, because it has become a part of his sexual identity. Gabe sexually identifies as an old nasty sweatsock full of cum stains, because Gabe just wants to mate again and again with his old nasty sweatsock full of cum stains. And every day you bear the burden of living with an old nasty sweatsock full of cum stains, well, you exhibit a certain je ne sais quoi that I know full well I could never bring myself to. Enclosed in this card is the number for a battered women's hotline, just because it really seems like Reno doesn't even regard you with any sort of love or kindness, and if he just treats you the same as he treats his beloved old nasty sweatsock full of cum stains, you owe it to yourself to call.

PS: If you call Radical Reno "daddy" because he's your father, definitely call instead. Besides, what kind of piece of shit gets their wife or kid just a fucking card for Christmas?