The scene starts off with Ginger wandering the upper decks of the Barclays center looking lost. The intern turned a corner and ran into the bulky form of Bubba the big guy from the Orphanage.

???: He bro you lost or something?

???: Who is it I can't see?

The voices stepped into the light to reveal the clowns Corey and Little L.

Corey: Oh the intern... Ok what do you want to ask us?

Bubba grunted and pushed Ginger towards the two clowns.

Ginger: Get off me. Is this how you go about business.. Wait look who I'm talking to.

LL: Yo dude just ask your questions and then scurry off.

Ginger: Ok ok now need for hostilities.

Bubba grunted and lurched forward causing Ginger to flinch and jump backwards.

Ginger: S-s-s-so last week you were seen tampering with Bubba's coveralls, some would say that Bubba's win is tainted no?

LL: Are you saying we cheated bro?

Corey: That's exactly what he's saying dude.

Ginger: Whoa now I wasn't sayi-

Corey: Don't bullsh*t us red. Our buddy here won fair and square, it's not our fault Solomon didn't have it in him to pin Bubba.

Ginger: Well it looked like Solomon clutched at his leg following his finishing move.

LL: I'm getting bored can you like hurry up?

Corey: Yea bro I'm getting bored too, you thinking-

LL: What I'm thinking.. We bound and gag him and leave him in.

Corey: Those high school lockers round the corner? Yes, Bubba you got this.

The big guy grabbed poor Ginger and put a dirty balled up sock into his mouth.

LL: Eww that's one of Seb Abbott's crusty jizz socks.

Bubba let out a sinister chortle as he began hog tying the intern

LL: Down the corridor there Bub shove him in the locker and we'll let the janitors find him.

Corey: They like to be called Custodians now man, it's like calling disabled people retards or little people midgits.

LL: Who the f**k cares bro.

Corey looked towards the camera.

Corey: The veiwers maybe? Anyway lets go check out that Flash vs Solomon match.

The clowns started leaving, behind them a struggling Ginger was being forcibly stuffed into a locker by Bubba as the camera pans to the announce team...

The camera pans to the announce team.

	I don't like them very much, so creapy.
	Well these next two should just be all action.

Solomon Gold vs Flash Riley

The camera pans to the announce team.

	Just what we needed.
	You got it!

Cort Marshall is in his favourite place besides the dive bar off 52nd (or possibly an alcoholics anonymous meeting), the interview room.

Cort: So... Turmoil. This is the B-show, right? The one with all the rejects who couldn't play nice? The Charleston Chew to Riot's Eatmor? The garbage bin where we dump all the luchadors whose masks don't sell well? 

Jim Black coughs.

Black: First of all, sir, Eatmors are for people who remember the French Revolution as it happened. And it's not a B-show, in fact the current champion of...

Cort: Yes it is, Black. With someone named “Big Ed,” it is. What kind of name is “Big Ed?” Did you get it from Large Marge, or maybe the world's shortest thesaurus? Listen, maggot, I beat a big guy last week and I can do it again. You oafs are all the same. Big talk, big walk, but ashes, ashes, you all fall down. Now it takes a lotta chops to cut down a tree as big as you, but right here...

He points to his arm and poses.

Cort: I've got the sharpest axe in the world, and within five minutes you're gonna be calling the forest service to pull me off of ya.

Black: I don't know about that. Big Ed certainly has a reputation of sorts around here...

Cort: A reputation? Around here a kindergartner could build a reputation as the meanest brawler on the roster! These people are beneath me, Black. Well, everyone is, but these people are below them, too. Tonight I'm gonna show these B-show jobbers what an A-plus elbow looks like! Or maybe OCW TV's greatest knee!

Black: Don't let Dupree hear you say that or you'll be eating spaghetti-o's through a straw for a month.

Cort: Don't worry, Black. Dupree can't hear anything besides compliments, makeup advertisements, and the persistent ringing in his ears any time he tries to form a coherent thought. And you should know by now that I'm the best there was, the best there is, and the best there ever will be besides Arnold Schwarzenegger and the dead Van Zandt. Now go take your microphone and shove it somewhere God's Light don't shine, because I have a fight to win.

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