Bobby walks around backstage, looking at what used to be his stomping grounds. Damn near a decade, and he had sealed it; there was nary a name more notorious than Bobby Bourbon. Sure, you had your share of provocative, edgy, and otherwise disturbed individuals causing problems in the XWF, but none quite the benign tumor that Bourbon caused.

Inoperable brain cancer, but it makes you happier while you piss purple and can't do algebra. That's Bobby according to oncology humorists (talk about a niche). No offense to cancer patients out there, we love you, we feel for you, even if Bobby refuses to stop making fun of the healthy using you as a benchmark.

Bobby sees Samael Dyson, the Xtreme Champion. He chuckles, shakes his head, and lays down on the concrete. Bizarrely, in this place where people need to walk, where work has to be done by countless hands to make the magic of the whole show work, from lowly road crew to camera crew to road agents to the talent themselves, Bobby seems serene, humbly obstructing everything, a smile creeping across his face as he takes a nap.

A referee runs up, sees Bobby is not pinning Dyson whatsoever, but looks at Dyson, almost knowing Dyson is compelled to do something just because Bobby exists.

Samael kicks out of this seemingly non existant pin because thems the rules. 

Seeing Bobby continue to just lay on the cement, Samael is compelled to wonder "who the fuck was that?"

But Sam is oblivious to the fact that somehow, some way, Bobby has posted a Global Culinary sign on Sam's back.