After the referee raises Sophia's hand, she motions for the mic as she drapes the Women's title over her shoulder. 

Sophia: Now that we've gotten Miss Tuesday Night Football out of the way, I've got something on my mind. 

Sophia: Molly, Molly, Molly. I know you're back there somewhere. Still pretty proud of yourself there, huh? Last week... Riot… ya know. 

Sophia: You're a changed woman… somehow you now have… ‘morals’... something that nobody ever associated with The Purge can possibly have. 

Sophia: You wanna play little miss nice girl now, right? I'll give it to you, you don't take no for an answer… Or in our case, ‘three’ finishers. 

Sophia: You know I had you. Let's see what you're made of. You beat the champ. WEPAAAAA! Now let's see if you can officially take this title from me, mi amiga. 

Madison shakes her head at Sophia several times from outside the ring.

Sophia: A solid, clean match. Will it be that easy for you? Show us how good you are, Molly! See if you can resist going back to your dirty tactics... at Savagelands. 

Madison facepalms...loudly.

Sophia: Adios.

The camera pans to the announce team.

	It's a LOCK!!!
	Savage Lands is going to be FIRE!!!

The Camera Pans To The Ramp!

Tiberius Octavian Dupree, “He with the Iron Knee” for those who believe, stands mid ring looking a bit baffled. Okay he looks more than baffled, he looks outright confused, which is awkward to watch.

The stagehand has already handed him a microphone, so what in God’s name is he looking for?

Tibby looks under his boots, he then stands and waits for a minute.

The fans have no clue what’s going on, like why is he looking at a watch he doesn’t have? Finally he talks, Kneesus Christ.

BETTERNESS: So where is everything?

The Crowd: WHAT!?

BETTERNESS: Don’t what me! Where is the table, where is Stacy Clark?

The Crowd: WHAT!?

BETTERNESS: I said don’t WHAT ME! 

The Crowd: NANI!?

BETTERNESS: Kneesus Christ, how am I supposed to sign a contract without a table, or someone to give me a damn pen….or a freaking CONTRACT!!!

The Crowd: NANI!?

BETTERNESS: This has to be that Pube conspiring against my BETTERNESS again. This reeks of his disgustingness. Get out here Paula and explain why we don’t have anything!!!

The Camera Pans To The Ramp(AGAIN!!!!!!)

Pugh also a bit confused….well more than a bit, he’s downright dumbfounded. To be sure he checks under the apron. He even checks the monitors at the commentator's desk as if it’s smoke and mirrors.

Pugh: I ain’t piss on this popsicle stand brother...this wasn’t me.

Tibby squints peering into the soul of one of his eternal rivals. Bullocks, he had nothing to do with this.

BETTERNESS: If it wasn’t you then who was it?

There’s a dramatic pause, then the stagehand- you know the one that needs a better job whispers something in Pugh’s ear. Pugh slaps him on his ass like a teammate leaving a huddle.

Pugh: This poor schmuck tells me they ran outta contract signings.

BETTERNESS: That doesn’t even make any sense. You can run outta things like Winterfresh bubble gum or even maple scented shampoo and conditioner...but how in the heck do you run out of contract signings?! 

The only fan worth a damn holds up a thinking emoji sign. What pleb could possibly use up all the contract signings?

Both the OCW World Lightheavyweight Champion and his counterpart say simultaneously. 

BETTERNESS & Pugh: Dougl-Donald Black!

Now that they know why there isn’t a contract signing, we go back to the fan with the thinking emoji sign. What next?

Pugh: I know how we can make this official brother….put her here

Pugh spits in his palm and extends his hand for a shake making their match at Savage Lands a lock. Dupree looks at him as if he has twelve heads attached to twelve more heads.

BETTERNESS: I REFUSE!!

Pugh continues to walk towards him with his palm extended. The camera pans closer in dramatic fashion showing a glob of mucus in his hand. Tibby keeps backing up till until his spine is met with a turnbuckle and he has nowhere to go.

BETTERNESS: NO NO NO NO!!!

Pugh slaps Tibby clean across the face sending spittle flying. The titerus in the production booth has the audacity to play it in extra slow motion for the viewers at home. Ugh.

Pugh: Signed and sealed brother.

As if it’s another day in the life of a hoot- Pugh unzips his fanny pack, pulls out his last stick of Winterfresh chewing gum.

Dupree on the other hand looks is stunned as a deer in headlights. Then suddenly he keels over fainting face first onto the canvas. 

For a moment everyone thinks it’s just a dramatic overreaction, until about a minute or two passes and Dupree doesn’t move.

Smacking on his gum Pugh nudges him with his foot, still nothing.

One of the refs come to check on him, he then throws up a “X”. Two EMTs come out to evaluate the fallen Hall of Famer, Pugh watches on indifferent. 

One of the EMTs radios to the back for them to bring a stretcher. Pugh’s disgusting, filthy, wretched saliva in it’s purest freaking form may have permanently damaged Dupree for life.

Pugh can’t help but chuckle as the wheel Tibby to the ambulance.

The camera pans to the announce team.

	Oh get up you big baby!
	WE NEED MORE AMBULANCES, STAT! (AL Rises quickly from his seat with a First Aid Kit -which looks to be just a box filled with Xanax and cheeseburgers-)

Kassidy Hayes vs Wrex

The camera pans to the announce team.

	OUTTA NOWHERE!
	Quicker then a hiccup!

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