Robbie Bourbon, having been within just the shortest grasp of winning Shove-It; Where The Sun Don't Shine, faces Peter Gilmour in Greece this Wednesday night after surviving elimination from him.

LIL PETEY

We open to see a travel agency. The place is barren, with most customers interested in travel, or at least who can legitimately afford it, planning their trips online via a bevy of options easily found on Google. A pair of ladies sit at two desks within, chatting away, ready for any customer who could appear and look for assistance in travelling abroad. What flights to book, what hotels to stay at, what meals to try at which restaurants, all provided in a fashion that is ready and capable of handling the technologically weary and frightened people who still want to broaden their horizons by seeing the world.

Suddenly, a text scrawl reading "EMERGENCY RESPONDER STATUS PENDING" slips by across the bottom of the screen as we see the A-Team van painted to look like the Ghostbusters car barrels through the front wall. The women shriek and dive behind their desks as Robbie Bourbon hops out of the van, toting a pistol and his battle axe. He fires the pistol in the air until the weapon clicks, denoting that no bullets remained. He then tosses the pistol in the air and cleaves it with his axe, which causes the gun to skitter out of the massive hole in the wall he created with his van. Blue, Robbie's girlfriend and handler, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, and Joe Biden climb out.

Why the fuck did you just do all that?

Do all what?

THIS SHIT! You just drove through a god damned wall, fired off a gun like a maniac, and then broke the gun with that axe!

I have a license for it.

I have a fishing license, you don't see me casting a line here.

There's no water.

Yeah, but...

No, there's no fish, no water. I brought the Xtreme to this otherwise dismal business. It's what I do.

I thought you already had your travel arrangements set up by the XWF office, Vinnie always texts me to make sure you got them.

What? Vinnie texts you?

Yeah, it's a split message group, I get them too.

Hrmm...

Robbie pulls out his phone.

Well, I'll be damned. I always ignored them.

How did you think you were getting to shows?

I just went to the airport. Every time, someone was like "Hey, you're Robbie Bourbon" or like "Wow, you went to hell and back and didn't even get a fucking Coca-Cola" or there were crowds of people chanting how I'm King of the Jobbers, or some people even asked what Trax smelled like, but every time I went to the airport someone just took me where I needed to go.

Really?

Yeah, pretty much. Except that one time we all flew in Air Force One.

I flew in it multiple times.

I bet you did, Joe, but Robbie picked where it went.

Joe Biden looks a little down from this jab. Robbie pats him on the shoulder.

Joe, I'm proud you rode that airplane lots of times, probably have quite a few great stories about it.

I do, in fact one time...

One time you'll get a chance to tell us all those incredible stories about what things happened aboard Air Force One, but for right now, I need to keep bringing the Xtreme.

Why? Why do you have to bring this much Xtreme?

Xtreme has no xtremes.

That's, well, pretty logical...

I know, logic knots are fun like that. They make me almost as rejoiceful as hypocrisy, which is why I need to smash Peter through two plates of glass in Athens. For starters, Peter Gilmour will not exhibit one shred of logic. Like, at all, ever, for any reason. He chewed out a demon that hitting on underage girls was bad, and said girl was one he told to kiss his wangdoodle till he shot frosting from his strudel, being a massive perv and pedo, the whole kit-and-kaboodle, Robbie Bourbon gonna pound a bitch like a bitch in a pound, straight up poodle. The hackneyed, unrealistic bullshit that happens in a Peter Gilmour promo is so far fetched that you have to wonder what the man's deal is with green screen. Ever notice that Peter never looks like he's in the same plane as everybody else? And all those special effects that go into making him look like he has a jawline and not droopy toad features. I've broken his bones and body between four god damned cell walls, and I'll break him up all over again if I must, and I must. It's my fucking job, because I am King of the Jobbers, and the people in my kingdom demand justice from the foul knave that denies his true heritage as one of the greatest jobbers this industry has ever seen. Whenever a Universal Champion needs someone to thump on, Peter Gilmour is first in line to make the Champ look like he had a chance. Frankly, you owe the whole nation of Jobberland a great amount in back taxes.

Secondly, he pisses and moans about people being hypocrites all the time. Seriously, when he wasn't completely knocking off Matt Hardy, a guy who can't even walk into the XWF for me to wreck him, he was just pointing out these goofy nuances, saying people were hypocrites. The funny thing is, this makes him a massive hypocrite. Peter Gilmour has robbed meat from friendly deli owners who preached and practiced superior ethnic diversity tactics in family businesses. Peter Gilmour has done a bevy of horrid, mildly autistic things, time and again, yet he points out the flaws seen in others? Where does he get off doing that?

Now, the big thing here, the major reason I need to smash Peter Gilmour through two plates of glass, and it's going to happen one, then the next, no sweat, because my happy ass ain't going through plate glass, nosirree. I, heh, digress, but the major reason I need to smash Peter Gilmour like he's a melon at a Gallagher show...

Who?

ME!

Gallagher, the comedian with the big hammer, runs into the screen.

Woah, shit!

That's right, it's me! I'm here!

Well, what, are you some supervillain come to make me miserable before I ultimately just pummel you and throw you through plate glass as a method of some pathos to show what Peter Gilmour is in store for?

Fuck no, I'm seventy! That would kill my old ass. I'm here to smash some shit, because it's Xtreme!

Oh shit!

Gallagher pulls out a melon and lays it on one of the desks in the travel agency. He pulls his hammer out as the text scrawls at the bottom of the screen, reading "BOURBON MAN AUDITION". Gallagher drops his hammer because he's old and pulls out an old back-loading shot gun, the kind Elmer Fudd always used when hunting. He shows he's using rounds that read 'Dragon's Breath'. He fires the round, and a cone of flame shoots out, quickly setting the travel agency on fire.

Fuck! I didn't know that could happen!

Robbie pulls a fire extinguisher from the wall and sprays at the walls, extinguishing the fire.

Welp, considering that and the structural damage brought about by my driving the van in through your walls, we should leave. Ladies?

Robbie looks at the women still cowering behind their desks.

C'mon, it's not safe here.