(CUT TO: A red velvet rope cordons off a special section of the CSWA Parsons Cruise Liner. A sign reads RESTRICTED AREA -- CURRENT WORLD CHAMPIONS AND GUESTS ONLY. The camera cuts to two bikini clad girls, possibly of age, -- one holding a red tropical mixed drink, with an umbrella and pineapple on the fringe, the other carrying a plate of Maki Roll sushi -- stand. Lounged out in his chair, wearing silver shades reflecting his world in all its glory, and wearing nothing but the tiniest of bikini briefs (with a silver crown with a diamond in the middle) to add to his bronzing solution, is TROY WINDHAM, his UNIFIED World Championship resting gingerly on his lap. Troy continues to sun himself until he sits up, takes off his shades, and folds them, clipping them into his bikini briefs right in front of his crotch.)
TROY: (Cackling) Did I really just do that? Again? Yes, I did. (The girls, on cue, also cackle with mischievious delight, even though it's obvious they barely know what planet they live on.) And what is it that I just done did? I STOLE THE SHOW. AGAIN. FOR THE UMPTEENTH STRAIGHT TIME.
Y'see, everyone WROTE ME OFF. Everyone saw heard the rumors, everyone saw my retirement speech, everyone saw my alleged last match ever where I tapped against Eli Flair, Forever My Footnote, down in that scumbag promotion NFW... and everyone thought that FINALLY... FINALLY we won't be in his shadow. FINALLY Troy Windham is out of the picture. The man who is the best looking wrestler of all time... the man who is the smartest wrestler of all time... the man who cuts the best promos, the man who has been in more five star matches than most people have DAYS IN THEIR LIVES... is gone. And while this might mean we no longer sell out arenas worldwide... while this might mean our paychecks are drastically reduced... this is good, because we will no longer be compared to The Gold Standard, The Measuring Stick, The King... THE CROWN JEWEL OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING... and the rest of the world will not know how bad at life we collectively are.
(Troy takes a sip of his mixed drink and hands it back to his valet.)
Well, guess what? CONSIDER YOURSELVES PUT BACK INTO YOUR PROPER PLACE. Y'see, last year, I set records. I sold out more arenas and had more PPV buys than any other man in history. I peed on people, I buried people under American flags, I stole titles, I sexually molested fellow world champions... 2-0-0-5 was The Best Year Ever. The accolades came in. TROY WINDHAM -- PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING'S MAN OF THE YEAR. I sat on top of this sport, looking down upon it from my French Alps chalet... AND I SPAT DOWN ON EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU FROM ABOVE. None of you stepped up to try and knock me off. None of you even did a THING to try and compete with me... BECAUSE ALL OF YOU KNOW THAT YOU CAN'T.
Gods get bored with mortals. So I sat back and contemplated my next step. Go back to the movies? Win another Cable ACE Award, co-star on Veronica Mars? Possibly. Go out on the new Bloc Party tour with my man August De La Rossi and see the world? Perhaps. Or even better... set in stone ANOTHER DEVIOUS PLAN that will once again cement my legacy as THE GREATEST PROFESSIONAL WRESTLER WHO HAS EVER LIVED.
This is why I am here. I tapped out against Eli Flair, albeit no one actually saw it since it was in the NFW, to set you all up. I stowed away in the cargo vat for two months SO NO ONE KNEW I WAS HERE. And then I waited for the right moment to strike, the right moment to once again show everyone in the CSWA that I am the bee's knees and that I am the only wrestler alive who is worthy of this promotions marquee.
I stood in the back, and then I hopped the aisle... and then I took what is mine, what has been mine, and what forever WILL be mine... the UNIFIED World Championship.
Everyone for months has been BEGGING for a rematch. They all want to see Dan Ryan get another shot at me, after I upended him in what was, without question, the best wrestling match in any promotion in the world witnessed in 2005, the tenth straight year I wrestled in the Match of the Year. Everyone, for YEARS, has been begging to see me and my moron brother Mark get in the ring with the UNIFIED World Championship, the bragging rights of Sweetwater, Texas and the Windham name on the line.
Well -- you all FINALLY got your wish. Troy Windham sneaks up the ladder and takes what is his... (Troy picks up the title and holds it up.) Dan, Mark... thank you for coming about the CSWA's Good Ship Lollipop. We have some lovely parting gifts from you located in the casino lodge. Now you may go home, because YOU LOST TO TROY WINDHAM... and YOU DON'T GET ANOTHER SHOT AT THE GOLD.
Ya'll think I'm kidding about this? Ya'll think I was overbearing in my personal requests BEFORE? I'm serious -- Chad, Steve, Hacker, whoever is running this show this month, if my name is on a contract with either Dan Ryan or Mark Windham, I will throw this title overboard and ruin this promotion forever. Or even better... I'm going to get off this ship and present the UNIFIED World Championship to Craig Miles down in the NFW. You think we have bad blood? Well, we probably do, but he knows what it's like trying to run a promotion with Doc Silver as a marquee name -- it just can't be done, and he knows that a live PPV shot of me taking a dump on this piece of tin here will mean he can make payroll this week. I will do it, and you know I will. So don't even bother with it.
This is *MY* league, *MY* title and this is *MY* cruise. I Am The Gold Standard. I Am The Crown Jewel. It's my party... and I do what I want to! And what I want right now... is some sushi!
(Troy lays back down on his chair. The girl holding the Maki tray starts placing pieces of sushi on Troy's bare chest... and then the two girls start eating it off his body. FTB)