We open inside a children's classroom. Colorful characters adorn the walls, the floor is pockmarked with those adorable little desks crammed full of crayons and old spelling tests. A calendar with a rainbow on it helpfully counts down the days until Christmas vacation.

But something is a little....different....about this class.

Teacher: Okay class, we have a very special guest coming today to read you all a story! Aren't you excited?!

It's a special ed classroom. There's a smattering of kids with Down syndrome, a couple kids in wheelchairs, and one with a helmet with Big Bird stickers plastered all over it. Nevertheless, the kiddo's seem excited for their special guest. Except one kid in the back, he's just eating crayons like a fat man at a Chinese buffet as an aide tries to frantically pull them out of his grasp.

Engy walks into the class, followed by Madison Dyson. Madison can barely keep the contempt out of her expression, her body stiff as a board like she's afraid being is contagious. Engy seems more at ease. He waves to the kids as he has a seat on a big choo-choo train run. The teacher directs all the children to the rug where they assemble in a circle. Madison pulls up a seat just outside the circle next to Engy. A little girl reaches up to touch her sleeve and she jerks away like the kid's a leper.

Huh-OHGOD! Heh....heh....yes, this shirt is worth more than your mommy and daddy make in a week so put your hand down...

The girl slowly withdraws her hand. Just as this is happening, more people walk into the room, a cavalcade of media. Most of them are lugging camera's with Fox News logo's on them. Some of the kids instantly look intimidated as the numerous lenses and snapping of handheld camera's bombard them.

Hey kids! My name is Dexter, but you can call me Engy, like this Choo-Choo train!

Most of the kids go “HI, MR. ENGY!” but some of them just grumble incoherently and drool.

Before we begin the story, I have something very important to say. Next year, I'm running to be a senator in your state! Do you guys know what a senator is?

Boy: A MONSTER?!

Pretty much!

Madison elbows Engy in the side.

Oh, he's just being silly. A senator is a man in the government who makes decisions for you. But I imagine that's something most of you are used to because you can't make decisions for yourselves.

That's right! And I'm going to be the best decider for you all, so your mommy's and daddies should vote for me!

Engy flashes a winning smile at one of the cameras.

But enough about all that, I came to read you guys a book. And this book is called “Oh No, Peter!”

Eng pulls out a slim children's book, and the cover features a morbidly obese caricature of Peter Gilmour laying in the middle of a wrestling ring.

This book is based on a real life guy named Peter, who is retar-errr, DIFFERENTLY ABLED, just like all of you. And sometimes that gets him in trouble! UH OH!

Engy opens the book and turns it towards the class. The illustration within spans both pages and features a big spread of drawings of the entire XWF roster. He clears his throat and starts to read.

”Peter works for a very cool company called XWF, that has lots of wrestlers in it. There is Grande Ricardo and his cool dragon friend Mike. There's Robbie Bourbon and Bearded War Pig who are awesome and fight for America. There's Phantom Panzer who is also special but this book isn't about him because nobody cares about him. There are lots and lots of interesting people in the XWF.

And then there's Peter.”

Engy turns the page, which has a picture of a very, very tremendously fat Peter looking lonely.

”Peter has worked for the XWF for a long time. He's even won some things (but only for a little while). And yet, nobody seems to like him very much, so Peter started feeling very lonely.” Awwwww.

The children mime his “awwwww”. Engy turns the page to reveal fat, fat, very fat Peter holding out a Rose to Maria, who looks like a filthy truck stop whore.

”So Peter tried to get a girlfriend. He met a ring rat named Maria.” Can you guys say “ring rat”?

Children (in unison): RING RAT!

Good job! “Peter got very close to Maria. Too close, actually. And he got a disease that made his bits itch. Oh No, Peter!”

The next illustration shows Peter itching his crotch furiously as little crabs leak out his pant leg. Engy shows the image before turning the page, this one showing Peter shoveling food into his face at a frenetic pace.

”Sometimes when Peter feels bad about his life choices, he eats all the food backstage. Oh No, Peter! Think of your sugars!”

Another page turned and this time it shows Peter getting pinned one one page, and a battered and bruised looking Peter on the adjoining page looking on sadly as yet another of his championships is handed over to someone better than him.

:”Looks like Peter lost another title just days after winning it. Oh No, Peter! Your performance is wildly inconsistent and unarguably mediocre.”

Engy turns to another page, which shows a very nervous looking Peter Gilmour staring down a C4 wired ring at The Engineer.

”So once again, massive feelings of inferiority have prompted Peter to make yet another huge mistake! Oh No, Peter!”

Finally, he turns to the last page, which features a gory splatter page of Peter Gilmour being blown to bits, his fat stomach avulsing his guts as the C4 detonates. As this happens, The Engineer is shown outside the Ring wearing a crown, carrying his Xtreme title, and grabbing Maria's tits.

”And now Peter is dead. Oh No, Peter. Oh No.”

Engy closes the book and the children start to applaud.

John Updike himself couldn't have done better.

So kids, I guess the moral of the story is, if you're a big dumb idiot like Peter you probably shouldn't ever make decisions....or do anything....because you'll probably end up dying in an ultraviolent deathmatch against a person you have no chance of defeating. Hooray!

The teacher cuts back in.

Okay class, it's time for lunch! Now what do we say to Mr. Bright?

Class (in unison): Thank you, Mr. Bright!

The kids get up and run, walk, wheel, and hobble to the door. Engy watches them go as the entire room empties out.

Lovable little scamps, ain't they?

Yeah, too bad the best they can hope for is a lifetime career as a Wal-mart greeter and drastically reduced social security benefits.

True 'dat. So Peter, how did ya like the book? Did it move you? Yeah, probably like loose stools through an elephant.

Ya know, a wise man once said it is better to stay silent and be thought a fool than to speak up and remove all doubt. Then again, when you speak up as habitually as Peter Gilmour does I'd say it becomes pretty damn hard to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Peter, you dumb fuck. You dumb stupid fuck. Where do I even begin? Huh? Point at a place and tell me you encephalitic mongoloid. How about we start with the fact that you're a bully destroyer. Because yes Peter, you sure do a lot of bully destroying on a regular basis.

Did you know that people with sociopathic tendencies, when shown videos of people doing normal everyday things like walking, can at rates much higher than chance pick out those who have been the victims of past crimes? It's almost like they have a six sense for detecting weakness. And its all true Peter, it's science! There is a literal scientific basis for people exuding weakness. It bleeds off them like a fuckin' STENCH. And it's why people like you spent a life time getting picked on. You're a beacon for victimization. And you must be thinking to yourself, “how is that possible? I am a one million time extreme champion and I definitely don't have a microscopic penis.”

Maybe it's your whiny bitch-boy indignant attitude. Maybe it's because you fold like a house of cards every time you face anyone of any real substance or skill. Maybe it's because you're so fucking fat your gut rolls provide ample growing opportunities for multiple variations of yeast. Whatever the case, you are a walking talking wedgie, Peter.

I want you to stop and truly be honest with yourself now. Do you think, in XWF's current environment, you stand an iota of a chance of being Universal champion ever again? Do you? Do you truly believe, in your fat clogged heart of hearts, that you could bring down a Robbie Bourbon, or a Jim Caedus, or a Robert Main? Can you tell yourself that?

You cannot. Cut the shit Peter, you're just not good enough. You act like taking people like Vinnie Lane and Luca to their limits is praiseworthy, bitch it's STILL LOSING! You are trying to build a hype train out of being a jobber to the stars you sad sack motherfucker. Do you understand how pathetic that is? You said you're the most consistent member of the roster? Peter do you know what “consistent” means? I hate to pull a Caedus here, but consistent means you're predictable. And given it's a crapshoot whether you win a match or not I'm thinking you lost your dictionary sunshine.

And motherfucking volts, Peter! MOTHERFUCKING VOLTS!

Engy and Madison both share a mocking laugh at Peter's expense.

God damn Jesus, you're stupid. “Maybe I'm wrong.” Of course you're wrong you chopstick lobotomy. Bitch has been around since before recorded XWF history and the highest mountain you've climbed is a 3 week garbage Uni reign after beating fucking SCULLY of all people.

You want to ask me where I am on the Top 50 list? You stupid asshole I've been here since MAY. I hadn't even gotten started the last time the powers that be threw their darts at a dart board to put that damn thing together. You want to know where I'll be on that list the next time it comes out?

In YOUR spot.

Maybe higher. No wait, I hope it's your spot just to spite you. Seriously though, ask any guy in that locker room if I'm better than you. Ask. Come on Mister 32. Ask.

You feel that cold creeping dread in your guts Peter? That's reality telling you the answer.

I'm BETTER than you. And deep down you know it. You hedged your bets throughout that entire promo. “Maybe I won't win. Maybe it won't be enough.” That's truth bleedin' through right there. You know it, you know it. I said it before and I'll say it again, your spot on that top 50 list is a function of TIME not EXCELLENCE. It's a bone the boss man threw you because you're around a lot to fill a spot on the card when not enough guys were on hand to opt in. You're a default contender because you're THERE and because, let's face it, fat people getting hurt is FUNNY.

Me? I'm here for more than the participation prize. I'm earning that top 50 spot legit, son. I'm getting on it because I've had one of the best fucking opening runs this company has ever seen, not because I stumbled into some blink and you'll miss it mid card title reigns over the course of 7 years you fucking HACK.

And....FUCKING VOLTS, Peter. FUCKING VOLTS YOU PAINT CHIP DEVOURING SIMPLETON!

It's funny, but the well is running dry dear.

Alright, alright. Then let's go with how your outward appearance of being tricked by the Kings into joining their ranks was really some Clancy-esque spy plot to infiltrate their ranks and destroy them from within. Which would almost be believable except for the fact that your whole master goddamn plan was predicated on them letting you in in the first place which you yourself admit they WERE NEVER GOING TO DO!

Peter, do you understand that words and the sentences they make up are supposed to have coherent meaning? That statements are supposed to have logical form and function that doesn't fall apart under half a second of drunken scrutiny? Do you know that Peter?

He drags the sleeve of his suit jacket across his mouth, getting black gunk all over it. Madison winces in response, but says nothing.

I want you gone Peter. The depths of your mediocrity are an affront to my senses. But clearly, without any real sense of shame, insight, or intelligence getting you to leave will be a tall order. You're ugly as shit already so ruining your looks won't be a deterrent either. Your an endless, all consuming pit of self humiliation, so clearly embarrassing you will be equally ineffective.

So I guess I just have to murder your spirit. I'll have to take something you love and destroy it right in front of you. I'll have to do something to you so terrible that you will forevermore associate this place that you so adore with tragedy, and heartbreak, and horror.

And I know just the thing.

Engy smiles so wickedly that even Madison scoots away from him.

Come one, come all to the greatest show on Earth. Where I put an end to XWF's longest running joke with a punchline that will put the Aristocrats to shame.

How much are you willing to lose Peter?

How much are you willing to lose?

Engy maintains the evil expression on his face until he is interrupted by the sound of a toilet flushing off camera. Engy and Madison both look over as a kid with down syndrome comes out of the bathroom, trailing a piece of toilet paper on his shoe. Seeing his class gone, his face puckers up into a sob and he starts to cry. Madison scowls and throws her hands up.

Aren't they supposed to count you things before you go anywhere?!

Take him to the cafeteria, Madison.

I'm not touching it.

You know, Kellyanne just called me again about that campaign manager spot and....

Madison starts to mutter angrily as she pulls some latex gloves out of her purse.

Why do you even have those?

Holdover from when you were an idiot. Don't ask.

Madison starts making chirping animal summoning noises as she walks towards the kid as the screen fades to....