We open on the exterior of a gym, which is brandishing a sign that reads….

Mr. Oz’s School of Wrestling (formerly Ghost Tank’s Beat Your Meat: House of Hot Dogs).

The camera finds its way through the front doors and into the recesses of the gym, lingering on a “trophy case” that’s light on trophies and heavy on old Ghost Tank merchandise including a complete line of GT brand feminine hygiene products (the douche honks when you squeaze it!).

We continue onward until reaching a ring, surrounded by a number of fresh face young students who are also coincidentally very poor investors. Kristoffer Arroyo stands in the center of the ring, wearing a blond wig and doing his best to look like Mr. Oz (which I think you should appreciate is very hard for him considering Kris is, well, hot and Mr. Oz looks like a rapey Cinnabon manager). “Mr. Oz” seems to be mid monologue when we catch up to him.

….so you see students, that is how you effectively cut a shoot on how XTREME you are.

The students clap dutifully. One of the students speaks up.

“Wow sir, and how deftly you skirted over the fact that you haven’t even held the Xtreme championship in nine years!”

“Oz” takes a little bow. “But remember, that was the Shane era, when everything was more XTREME!”

Another students sounds off. “Right sir, and it didn’t even occur to me that that’s a tacit admission that you haven’t been relevant in, like, FOREVER.”

“Erm, well, of course it didn’t. Heh.”

“But sir….?” Yet another student begins. “With how bloodthirsty, hardcore, and fearless you like to remind us you are in every promo, why do you always tell us never to go through that door?” The student points to a door in the corner thats laden with cobwebs. Above the door is a placard that simply reads “WARFARE”. “Surely you’re not afraid to go in there? I mean, you’re not afraid of anything…right?”

“Oz” looks at the door and his lip twitches. A bead of sweat pearls and rolls down his forehead. “No, no, of course not.”

“But, what’s in there?”

“It’s…it’s nothing students! Absolutely nothing!” “Oz” pulls at his collar nervously. “Say, why don’t we all hit the showers? I promise I won’t do that thing where I stare awkwardly at your penises and when you notice me doing it flush red as a strawberry, mutter “sorry” under my breath like a total beta and turn my body to hide my burgeoning erection.”

“But…what IS in there?”

“N-n-nothing!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m damn sure!” “Oz” snaps. “It certainly isn’t a whole wealth of alternate competition I’m scared shitless of facing! Anarchy is just fine thank you very much and it’s where I’m going to stay!” He suddenly looks embarrassed by his outburst. “Oh….oh my….I’m sorry…..”

“Well are you ever going to go in there?”

“I….I don’t see why I need to!” He tugs his collar again as the sweat is now pouring down is face. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

“I’m pretty comfortable.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Huh.” Oz looks towards the locker rooms. “Well, last one into the showers is a golden rectum stretching potato! I will of course be wearing my boxer shorts in the shower again to conceal my manhood, as it strongly resembles the head of a young turtle barely poking out of a natty unkempt brush.”

“Oz” claps his hands and the students file into the locker room.

“Ah, they’re good kids. Ask a lot of stupid questions though. Like….” Kristoffer reaches up and pulls the wig off his head. His entire cadence changes. Cocky. Self assured.

Better than YOU.

“....like how do you have the gall to talk up how XTreme you are when the last time you even held that championship was 20 fucking 17?!”

“Or how you constantly glaze yourself up like you invented “brutality” when your record doesn’t break even?”

“Oz, you just might be the most toothless thing on Anarchy this side of Troupe Blade, and THEY needed a whole new title to be invented just so they’d have something to fight over. It’s like their own little microcosm of SUCK.

Hmmm…microcosm. I like that word! I mean, you know a whole bunch about “micro”, don’t you Oz? Cheap shots aside, Anarchy is YOUR own little microcosm, is it not? Your proverbial small pond. But here’s the thing, Oz. You’re not even the biggest fish in this pond, are you? Oh sure you made quite the spectacle out of challenging three scrubs a night and still not coming out 100%, but you haven’t been king shit of Anarchy in five years. And beyond that all you did is hold the Revolution championship for two weeks two years ago. So not only have you limited yourself to one show, but you’ve barely even done anything on that one show!

Point blank, until you decide to walk through THAT DOOR…

Kris points back at the Warfare door.

….you ain’t shit.

Until you grow the juevos to challenge the entire XWF?

….you ain’t shit.

Until you stop pretending you’re the Big Man on Campus, suck it up and FIGHT ON WARFARE….

(guess what?)

….you ain’t shit!

But you won’t do any of that, will you? Nah. Because you’re comfortable. Complacent.

Lazy.

You like it here. You like pretending this is your little fiefdom even as better, stronger competitors (ie. me) have made bigger splashes in much, much less time than you.

You’re content in your delusions. And that makes you weak.

Hell, that makes you PREY.

This Anarchy, Oz proves once again that he’s still the guy pulling the push door.

And me? Heh, the tag titles were a fun diversion. But I’m feelin’ a little cat scratch fever....