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An X-Rated Segment Starring

Mr. Ass in...


 Part 2

Degenerate 4 Life


Disclaimer: Ah, screw the disclaimer!

The scene opens once again in the city of Austin, Texas. The past events on the Top Gunn series have been quite interesting, but disappointing for Billy Gunn, who is seen here in a hospital bed, with friends and family standing before him, trying to pray him through this matter. Bart Gunn, Billy Gunn's brother is also attending, with his son Colin, who is eight years old, by his side. Cameron Diaz, former girlfriend of Gunn is also in the hospital room. Derek McMichaels, Gunn's cameraman has just entered the room. Derek looks at the bed at the unconscious Gunn, then throws his hat to the floor in frustration. The question has to be raised, what becomes of the Royal Rumble. Damn, me being a loyal narrator of Ass Productions, where does my job go? Gunn had high expectations in his upcoming debut match that if he won, he would earn the right to meet the World Champion at Wrestlemania for the World Title. Now what? Gunn, laying here unconscious, is wearing the gown that the hospital issues out for their patients. Apparently, the injury has to do with Gunn's head. He banged his head on the dash board extremely hard, giving him a major concussion. He has been getting a bit better, but he still sleeps for many hours at a time, ranging from fifteen to seventeen. Suddenly, Gunn sits up, with his eyes open wide. He begins to breathe hard, and everyone huddles around. Cameron, holding his hand, runs her fingers through his hair, as everyone tells him to settle down. After a little less than a minute, he does just that. He's given a cup of water, as a PWO official walks through the door. He's wearing a suit, with glasses, and a clipboard in hand. He has an identification card on his suit that reads, PWO Royal Rumble Executive. He moves everyone out of the way, with a pissed look on his face. He stares in the eyes of Billy, who just looks at him, as if he were in his own world...

PWO Official: Gunn, Gunn, Gunn... You freakin' did it now, pal! We're probably goin' to have to replace you. I told you not to join this promotion if your heart wasn't in it, and look what you do! You probably did this on purpose. Yeah, we'll definitely replace your ass. And no, you won't be missed, you worthless sack of shit!

Bart Gunn: What the hell? Who the hell do you think you're talkin', Dickless!

Colin Gunn: Ha, he doesn't have a dick!

PWO Official: Let me tell you something, I despise this man. Why? I have no clue, but I'd sell my mother to have him killed.

Bart punches the PWO Official in the face, sending him to the floor. He squirms on the floor a little bit, then wabbles to his feet, and exits the room, but not before saying...

PWO Official: I will not rest until you're finished, Gunn!

Bart acts as if he's going to chase him, and the PWO Official runs swiftly out.

Cameron Diaz: Billy... Babe, how are you doing?

Mr. Ass: My head... Hurts... So bad... Where am... I?

Bart Gunn: You're at the hospital, brother. You're okay.

Mr. Ass: My God, the Rumble!

Bart Gunn: You won't be participating in the Rumble, Billy. You can't even move.

Cameron: Yes, Billy. The doctor said you shouldn't wrestle for a while.

Mr. Ass: Screw the doctors, Cam... I have to wrestle. Why... Are you here?

Cameron: I came to support you. Even though we separated on bad terms, I still care for you.

Colin Gunn: Aw, ain't that sweet. Yuck! Billy, get up! You have a Rumble to win, Unk! You have to get up.

Mr. Ass: I will... What day is it?

Bart Gunn: Friday, Billy...

Mr. Ass: What does the Flatliner look like?

Bart Gunn: Never seen it.

Mr. Ass: I saw it once, but I like glanced at the screen so I didn't see it in full, but from what I saw, it looked like Jarrett's Stroke. 

Cameron: What does this have to do with anything?

Mr. Ass: Well, if it isn't like Jarrett's Stroke, then I'm gonna look like an idiot...

Derek: ......

Mr. Ass: Why are you so quiet?

Derek: Don't worry about me...

Mr. Ass: Fine. Then turn on that camera and lets get going.

Bart Gunn: I don't that's such a good idea, bro. Look at your condition. 

Cameron: I agree, Billy. I think you should-

Mr. Ass: I don't care what you think. This is my first match in this place. I want to really make a name for myself. I want to be recognized when I walk down the street in any and every city. Cameron, by now, you should know that I don't let opportunities pass me by. This is an opportunity. An opportunity to propel myself into the World Title ranks. I don't want to play around in the Tag Team ranks. I don't want to fool around in the Intercontinental Title ranks. I'm too damn good for that. The Royal Rumble is my time to prove it. I'm not gonna let a little crash detour me from my path to become the dominant force in wrestling today. You can't do that from the sideline, nursing an injury. Too many wrestlers have done that. Injuries, Shit, they're a competitors worst nightmare, and a Godsend for a coward. I'm no coward. To the entire federation and all of my fans. Rest assured, I am the next World Champion. What, you think I'm kiddin' here? My true fans don't. They know that when Mr. Ass sets out to do something, he does it. The Royal Rumble will be no different. I'm on a quest to restore the true skill of a World Champion to the World Championship, and at the same time, make this place better than it's ever been. Do not, and I mean, do not underestimate me. That's when I'm the most dangerous. Just try me...

Injured? When a guy like Chris Jericho heard this, I'm sure his dead ass lit up with excitement, thinking that he could actually win the rumble now. Nah, ain't gonna happen, partner. Now, I come to the one they call Chris Jericho. Chris Jericho needs a reality check. Fellow wrestlers shouldnít respect me, because I canít respect them. I canít respect people who are inferior to me, but fail to see it, or meet reality. Jericho, despite the fact that he respects me, heís still one of those people. Wait, did Jericho ever say he respected me... No, I don't think so, but what the hell, y'know? I'm sure he did, but he won't after he hears what I have to say about him. Jericho is one of those losers who sit back and actually believe they have a chance to defeat me. Wake up call! This is a task that cannot be done, especially by some midget like Chris Jericho. The future? No, I am. The present? No, I am. The past? Ha! Jericho can claim to be the future of this federation as he wishes, but he hasnít shown any signs of being worth more than the paper his birth certificate was printed on. I donít know. Maybe itís just me. I donít see whatís so great about Christopher Jericho. The former ĎLionheartí, now Y2J. So, as far as Iím concerned, the legends before me have passed a torch along, and Iím the man the choose to carry it through the millennium. You know, I noticed something. Like Lance Storm, Jericho signature submission hold will do no good at the Rumble, for obvious reasons. In his hold, he's very vulnerable to attacks. The Walls of Jericho makes Jericho. Without it, what his he? Nothing. You see Jericho, this future is Billy Gunn, and only Billy Gunn. He will not take anyone with him in a quest to achieve the greatness in which he deserves, especially, Chris Jericho. World Champion Chris Jericho? No, think again. I donít think the Jericholics will be behind you at Royal Rumble. Only alcoholics could ever think you deserve to be World Champ. Again, Jericho. Donít respect me, unless that respect is a branch of fear. If thatís the case, by all means, please do respect me, but recognize your respect as what it truly is, fear. But if your respect, is just that, respect. Donít bother. I am not to be respected. I am to be admired and feared. Remember this Jericho.

The Undertaker. Why do I feel like I'm wasting my time. This guy has been dead for a long time now. And no, I don't mean him physically, I'm talking about his career. It's time to go, Taker. The show is over. Go home. You've been around for like a decade, or maybe even longer. He's had a lot of chances to be something greater than he is. Be it World Championship Wrestling, The World Wrestling Federation, or Japan, whatever. You name it, he's been there. Now, our paths cross once again. Here in this federation. Taker, what are you plans? What do you have up your sleeve? I'm curious as hell to figure it out, because you're pushing forty now. You're a regular Hogan or a Flair. What more can you give to the sport? More Choke slams or over exaggerated powerbombs? I have watched you move list shrink considerable after every year you've been active in wrestling. C'mon Taker, where does it stop? When do you say enough is enough? Do you want to end up like Hogan or Flair? I think it's time I put you out, for good, since you're to stubborn to retire like a good old person is suppose to do. Now, don't feel bad. If Hogan and Flair were here, I would personally take them out of their misery. But they're not here, Taker, but you obviously are. You're worn out, Taker. Your time to sit is coming. Let The Ass Man push you longer to get you there a little faster. Perhaps pushing you over the top rope? Yeah, that's the type of pushing I'm into. I'm looking to end you, because I'm tired of seeing you around. You're size is always over exaggerated and so it your wrestling skill. I'm tired of that shit! I'm tired of you! I'm looking for you in the rumble old man. Make sure you're looking over your shoulder. I hope I can get to you before someone else takes your ass out, because, no one really likes you, so I doubt I'm the only guy who wants to take you out of the match.

Booker T. Booker T, you have some skill. Let me be quite honest here when I say you're the only other man of our size who can move like a Cruiserweight. We're a lot alike. We're both very athletic. We even have a similar signature move. Enough. It's time to lay into you, like only the Ass Man can. Let me tell you how we differ, Booker T. You're just a jerk. I mean, you're an asshole for no reason. What happened to the guy who brought honor to the sport of wrestling, huh? You should be ashamed of yourself. Oh well, there aren't many good guys in the wrestling world today. Scratch another off the list. Booker T, I predict that while you're trying to be a bad ass, you don't have nearly the amount of success that you had as a good guy. Why? It's not you. You say it's you, but let's be real, it's not. It's working for you now, but it'll catch up to you. Kind of like drugs. Another thing Booker, my finisher is like totally so much better than yours, dude. Okay that was weird... Anyway, The Fame-Ass-Er is one of the strongest moves in the promotion. The Axe Kick? What the hell? Oh yeah, you had that changed. To the Book End. You know, I've been meaning to ask you, do you like The Rock or something? I mean, you carry yourself just like him. Not in attitude, but your wrestling changed dramatically to his still, not to mention the signature move is the same. You're wearing expensive shirts and sunglasses. Booker T, are you some kind of fanatic of The Rock or something? Can't you be your own man? Why do you have to resort to copying others? Loser. The third and final reason is that I'm just better than you. Plain and simple Booker T. I was born better, and I will die better than you. You were born to be my inferior. This is not my doing. I appreciate the gift from God, where he gave me the ability to be the greatest athlete here, and the greatest wrestler, however, I didn't ask for it. I know for a fact that you didn't ask to be so terrible of a wrestler. I know you didn't. Don't hate me 'cause I'm that damn good. You will never be me, and you will never be as good as me. You know this, I know this, and the entire federation knows this. There's no need for any hate to be between us. Don't drag this into a personal issue, because some of the remarks I have made are stinging. I don't dislike you and I don't hate you. Lighten up. Smile, jerk. You'll see that life comes a bit easier and that you don't have to scream to get what you want all the time.

The Stinger has plans to win the rumble, eh? I hope he hasn't promised anyone a victory, especially his kids. If he has, then his kids are going to be quite disappointed in their father. Sting, I know you're watching this. Bring the kids to the screen. I have a message for them. Nah, don't worry, I'll keep it clean... Okay. Kids, your father has promised you that he's going to win the rumble, right? Right, okay. Now, I hate be the barer of bad news, but, he's not going to win it. As a matter of fact, it's safe to say that in today's wrestling world, your father is a loser. Yeah, your father is a failure. You see, I'm a better role model than even your father. I'm even better than Santa Claus. Why? Because when I make promises, I follow through. Politician? Perhaps I should dabble in the field, but I'll do that when I'm your father's age. Anyway, I'm telling you now, I will win the Royal Rumble. I promise this. One of us can't fulfill this promise. Which one do you think has a better chance of coming through? The Stinger or Billy Gunn? Yeah, I thought so. The Ass Man all the way. Okay Sting, get them away from the screen. I'm about to mouth off, and I don't think you want them to hear what I have to say. Oh, and by the way, do your kids wear face paint too? Sting, I have said the same thing to a third of the men on the Rumble, and for all the same reasons, I'm in the rumble. Out of thirty men, giving their all, only one man can come away with a victory. That means twenty nine men will walk away as beaten men, leaving one victorious. Sting, what makes you think you're the one? I am the one and only Ass Man. I am the one and only Billy Gunn. I am the one and only wrestler who will walk away from Sunday as the sole number one contender to the World Title, who will receive his shot at the biggest event in the sport, WrestleMania. Stinger, you see my plans, do you honestly believe you can stop me from realizing my goal? If so, you have a lot of guts. Either that, you're crazy in your rafter dwelling head. I'll take latter myself, because any man who runs around in black and white face paint and swings from the rafters must be crazy. I like that. The insane are the most dangerous people on the planet, because they just don't give a damn. You'll come to find that the insane are dangerous, but are second to me in that very category, however. You see, not only do I not give a damn, but hell, I like to play with people. Get in their heads, toy with their minds. You have no idea what I mean, but as time passes, you will. 

Then I move onto Al Snow... Let me tell you something. I have been waiting for this time for a while now.

Cameron stands and says...

Cameron: Billy, I gotta go.

Mr. Ass: I see. No problem.

Cameron: I hope you get better, really I do.

Cameron exits the room while Billy just shakes his head. Bart walks around the bed, and shakes his brother's hand, then exits the room himself. Colin follows close behind him. This leaves Derek in the room with Billy. Derek is still filming and has still been quite silent. Perhaps he hasn't recovered from the experience.

Mr. Ass: Damn. Anyway, like I said, I have waited for this moment for quite sometime. Well, not really. Just a day since my arrival. But still, I can develop a probably with a man in a day. I'm sure we call can. This happens to be the case with myself toward Al Snow. To be perfectly honest, I don't like that guy. I don't like his goofy smile. I don't like it how he and Kevin Kelly are inseparable. I mean really, do you have to use that little prick every damn time? I hate it how I always seem to get a summary of all the happenings in the PWO, even when they don't concern you. I hate it how you consider yourself a force to be reckoned with. You're not a man who puts fear into a person upon site. I, however, am the kind of wrestler. I haven't stepped foot in the ring with you, but at the Rumble, if you're still around when I get in that ring, you'll see just how huge I truly am. You will be quite amazed at the fact that while I'm built like a tank, I move like a Cruiserweight. Intimidating is the word I'm looking for, and you can bet your ass I am, and you aren't. With a name like Snow, how could you be? It's funny how you say Scottie Too Hootie has a dumb name, but buddy, I think you should look into your own backyard, before you start slinging that kind of trash talk. Maybe you have forgotten just who the hell you are, which isn't a surprise. You're warning people about getting in your way. Ah, whatever. You? Warning people? Al Snow?! Ha, I'll get in your way. Then, after I get in your way, I'm tossing your crazy ass out. You told Shawn Michaels that not he, nor anyone can stand in your way in winning the Royal Rumble. Well, I got news for you. If there's one man who can, you're looking at him. Go ahead and throw the 'if' out the window because I am the man who will stop you in your tracks you overconfident bastard.  I'll see to it you lose your shot at the World Title, because frankly, I think I'm a little more qualified for the job. Actually, I'm a hell of a lot more qualified than you, Snow. Now, notice I said qualified, but not deserving. I don't deserve a damn thing. I haven't been here long enough for this opportunity, but you know what, I'm here, in the right place, at the right time. It's some coincidence that I get signed to PWO right before the Royal Rumble. Perhaps there's a little touch of destiny sprinkled in there. I think it's my time. Despite the fact that I haven't even participated in a match here yet, it may very will be Billy Gunn's time to rise to the occasion and win the Rumble, and ultimately win  the World Title. Again, I have stressed the fact that I'm looking to take over. Every federation deserves to have a true champion represent them as the World Champion. Not only am I a true champion, but I have the charisma. I have the ability to work the crowd in ways Al Snow knows nothing about. Boring old Al Snow, I can tell that you see wrestling as a job and not as a form of leisure. We have the same occupation, but I'm one of the luckiest men in the world because my job is a game. Yet, the way you walk around here, your job is a job. You're cranky and all you worry about is getting your due. Yeah, you take this as a job. You shouldn't. Relax. But hey, who am I to say? You've been successful as an old cranky idiot, as opposed to being laid back. Do what works for you. I'm in it to win it, and have fun doing it. I have the most fun with wrestlers like you. The uptight type. The type that walk like they have a stick shoved half way up their asses and feed off the derogatory remarks from others toward them. I like playing games, Snow. I dunno, I guess I'm a Degenerate for life. We prided ourselves on playing tricks on guys like you, because you take it so serious. It's hilarious. I guess I'm telling you the future. I'm your bully, Al Snow. You'll fight back. You better, you're a wrestler, but believe me, the pranks are coming until you learn to live. Snow, again, I am the man who stands in the way of your quest to win the Royal Rumble. And like I have said to everyone I have talked about in the Rumble so far, you can't win the Rumble. Why? Because I am going to win the Rumble. It's as simple as that.

Suddenly a nurse walks through the door, pushing a tray with hospital food on it. Billy frowns at the very thought of eating that food. Interestingly enough, the nurse happens to be a man. I'm seeing a lot more male nurses at hospitals. It's kind of funny if you ask me, but you didn't, so let me continue. The nurse slides the tray over the legs of Gunn who's sitting up in the bed. The nurse is a goofy looking individual. He looks at Gunn with his hands crossed in front of him. Oh, this nurse is a queer. The nurse says...

Nurse: It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Gunn. I'm a big fan of your work back in your past federations. 

Mr. Ass: Well thanks buddy, I truly appreciate that.

Nurse: Well, do you need a sponge bath, or anything like that?

Mr. Ass: Eww! God no! Nothing like that, just go.

Gunn can lie like the best of 'em. Billy takes his fork, cringes a bit at the looks of the food, then goes for the Jello.

Nurse: No! Don't eat that. 

Mr. Ass: Are you still here? 

Nurse: You don't want that Jello, it tastes like balls.

The nurse laughs at what he just said, as Derek looks a bit disgusted. A smile comes over Gunn's face as he says...

Mr. Ass: Just out of curiosity, how do you know what balls taste like?

Nurse: I think it's time I go.

Mr. Ass: I was thinking the same thing.

Gunn waits for the qu- I mean the nurse to leave, and he now continues...

Mr. Ass: Cruiserweights... I hate those little guys. I hate how they jump around the ring, and when you hit them, they fall and are pretty much done for the rest of the match. One punch? You see, I hate these little guys because they're not a challenge, and I often wonder why they're even here. Now, I have no problem with the little guys when they wrestle each other. Actually, it's pretty entertaining, yet, put a guy like Jeff Hardy against Billy Gunn. Billy Gunn could take that title from him in an instant without breaking a sweat. That goes for anyone contending for the real titles. Any of us could rip a Cruiserweight apart. The Cruiserweight Division should join with the Women's Division. Hell, I'm sure Torii or Lita could probably knock off a little guy like Jeff Hardy, Rey Mysterio Jr., or Scottie Too Hottie. As a matter of fact, they could knock them out of the ring easily. Maybe PWO should have put a couple of women in the Rumble. The point I'm trying to make is Jeff Hardy, Rey Mysterio Jr., and Scottie Too Hottie, you're all in over your heads, which isn't too hard to do in your cases. You're the guys who screw up a pool party because you can't go into the deep end. Especially little Rey. Is he even five feet tall? Could you imagine a WrestleMania main event with Rey Mysterio Jr.? It would quickly turn into the smallest event in the wrestling world, and yes, there's a hidden joke in there. Jeff Hardy. Man, I hope you don't think you can play with the big boys, just because you're the king of the little boys as Cruiserweight Champion. Y'know, the Cruiserweight and the Women's Title are the only titles that have stipulations in order to compete for them. The Cruiserweight Division and all who participate in it are little boys. Jeff Hardy, you're just the best of the little ones right now, nothing more. Another problem with you Cruiserweights is the fact that your signature moves are top rope maneuvers. A Swanton will get you no where in the Royal Rumble, Jeff. Now, it's no secret that you don't need overwhelming strength to win the Rumble. Kane, The Undertaker, The Big Show, they've all come short in the past. Yet, don't think that strength is not an issue. You have to be able to do it all Jeff. You can't. You're fast and quick to the extreme, but in comparison to the top guys in the federation, your strength level is laughable. Now, you have a The Big Show who is slow as hell, but he strength to the extreme. You have to have a strong balance like myself. I have the strength of a big man and the agility of a Cruiserweight. Now you see why I am full of myself. 

Rey, same thing. You're even smaller than Jeff. Like I said, I don't think you've cleared five feet. How does it feel to be a grown ass man and not be able to ride a roller coaster? Damn that must really suck. I wouldn't know. I guess I hit the jackpot in the DNA lottery. Yeah, I'm tall, strong, fast, good looking, and I have a great ass. Oh hell yeah, I hit the jackpot! You on the other hand look like you're some lab experiment. The experiment was to see how small a grown human can be without being a midget, elf, leprechaun, and all the other small people that I'm sure you have been called throughout your life. Rey, you're way to small to be a true contender in this match. Who are you going to knock out of the ring, besides the other Cruiserweights that are in the Rumble? And what's funny is you're even smaller than they are. You're the smallest man on the roster, trying to contend for the biggest title in the business, in the biggest match of the year. Doesn't that sound a little weird to you? It should. Why? Because you winning can't happen, and for once it's not just because I'm the in the Rumble, which is a big reason, but it's also because you're just too damn little, you're too weak, are you're far too reckless. I wish you the best though. You need it, 'cause I have the strangest feeling that you're going to get your little ass hurt trying to win this rumble in the land of the giants. One thing I have learned about short people is that they have a need to assert themselves as bad asses. Why? Mysterio, you tell me. Why do you little people try and act like you have more than a pair of balls like we larger men? You guys tryin' to make up for the lack of size? Maybe that's why you're competing in the rumble, eh? Well, that's all well and good little man, but don't get yourself killed trying to prove a point. It's not worth it, because there's nothing you can accomplish in this match. Participating is pointless, especially for you Cruiserweights. Billy Kidman is another guy who needs to take a seat on the sideline before he gets hurt. 

Kidman, now? Nah, you're Billy Kidman. And in addition to that, there's no way you're winning this rumble, buddy. I hate the fact that I have to say the same damn thing to every opponent I talk about, but it's so damn true. Kidman, you may have the same name, but our similarities end there. Unlike you, I have a future here in PWO. A good one. You? You may get a couple of Cruiserweight Title reigns. But don't think I'm saying that because I think you're good, because actually, I don't think you're good. I'm saying it because it's almost as if you guys just pass it along from Cruiserweight to Cruiserweight. It's a competitive division, however, the competition level is extremely low. Like I said before, put me against you, and I kill you. It it isn't necessarily because I'm far more skilled than you. I'm a much larger man. I'm not the size of a high schooler or a Backstreet Boy. Yeah, you kind of look like one of those guys. I have to tip my hat to you, even though I don't wear hats. Your Shooting Star Press and Kidman Krusher is pretty impressive. Yeah, very impressive actually, but it's only impressive within the confines of the Cruiserweight division. In any other division, it's useless. The Rumble involves wrestlers from all divisions except the Women's Division. Your Kidman Krusher, and especially the Shooting Star Press will not be a factor in the match, and that's a large part of your offense. What now, Cruiserweight? You get your ass tossed by yours truly, Mr. Ass. And maybe it won't even be me. Maybe Scott Steiner will toss your ass out of the ring, or even The Undertaker. It doesn't matter really, but the message is clear. Your presence in the match is not a factor in the outcome. You're walking into a match where all you can possibly do is have your ass handed to you, because there's only one man who can come away with the victory. Do you think you're it? If so, get a clue. Look at me. Look at this face. The name is Billy Gunn. Remember it, 'cause it's the name of the man who's going to win this Rumble, and in a couple of months, he will be your World Champion. 

At that, a doctor walks into the room. He's a man who looks to be up in age, maybe around forty five or so. He has a clipboard in his hand and he's wearing glasses. As he comes in he says...

Doctor: Mr. Gunn, how are you?

Mr. Ass: Fine, Doc, just fine. When can I get back into the ring.

Doctor: That's tough to say, but you should give it two weeks.

Mr. Ass: You're kidding me, right?

Doctor: I kid you not, Mr. Gunn. Your injuries are quite serious. A concussion and a dislocated shoulder are quite serious. We were able to pop the shoulder back into place while you were out.

Mr. Ass: Listen man, I have a match on Sunday at the Royal Rumble, in the Royal Rumble. You can't be serious when you tell me I have to sit out. There's no way! This match means way to much.

Doctor: I am aware, Billy Gunn. I am a big fan of PWO, thanks to my children's children. We watch it every Monday when they come over to visit. I understand you situation as well. Your debut was a surprise to some, but not to me. My grandson follows the PWO over the internet. There are some sites that give out rumors and your signing was one of them. Apparently, he heard about you from some other federation, and he said you were excellent. To be honest, I want to see just how excellent you are, but I wouldn't be a good doctor if I did that to you. 

Mr. Ass: You'd be one hell of a fan, though, sir.

Doctor: ... I can't let you leave, Gunn. You'll have to stay here for a couple days so I can make sure recovery is coming along normally. I will have two guards on the outside of this room to make sure you stay. I feel by doing this, I am being one hell of a fan.

At that, Michael Cole now enters the room with a cameraman behind him. He's wearing a brown sweater with black jeans, and his partner is dressed in a similar fashion. Derek turns off his camera at this point. The doctor smiles at Gunn, pats him on his shoulder, then walks out the room, acknowledging Michael Cole before he does. Derek walks over to the window to the left of Gunn's bed and looks out over the city. Michael Cole takes a seat by Gunn, and scowls at Derek. The cameraman turns on the camera, and sets up near to the bed, getting both Gunn and Cole int he picture. Gunn pushes the tray to the side, and says...

Mr. Ass: Get that for me, Derek.

Derek nods, without saying a word and tosses the tray out of the window. Gunn rises, and sits on the edge of the bed, closer to Michael Cole.

Mr. Ass: Why did you scowl at my cameraman like that, Cole?

Michael Cole: I'd rather not talk about it, actually Gunn. I would, however, like you hear your words regarding Scott Hall segment, in which he had a few words for you...

Michael Cole snaps his finger, and the cameraman roles a television into the room. He slides a tape into the VCR, and they watch the Hall segment... 

One Hour Later...

We find Billy Gunn, Michael Cole, and the cameraman, all sleeping soundly in the room. Gunn is drooling on himself, until he snores so strongly that he nearly chokes. He wakes up, then hits Cole in the head. Cole wakes up, then wakes up the cameraman.

Michael Cole: ... Whoa... What happened?

Mr. Ass: Hall happened. He put us to sleep. How ironic that he put us to sleep while he's telling me I put him to sleep. Loser. Hall was a little upset with what I had to say about him, but why be upset. It's the truth, and he knows it. You see, I don't care if he was the first World Champion. It's a known fact that the better competition comes later to a newly opened federation. He was probably wrestling a bunch of scrubs until the competition caught up with him. Not to mention I wasn't there when he won the title. You see, it's debatable that I may have very well kept him from getting that title if I was here from day one. As a matter of fact, I would have been the first PWO Champion, and the only, but we'll never know, will we? All we know is that I'm here now, and nothing else matters. I told that idiot that I was new and didn't know much of what was going on, but I did know what was going on lately, and that's Hall losing. It's true, you can't hide a losing streak when you're in front of millions, nimrod. In speaking of hiding, let's talk about Hall's drinking. You see, I know why Hall couldn't stay awake while watching my segment. No, it's not because it's boring, because I have more excitement in my segments than he has in his, but it's because he and Nash probably hit the town... No, maybe Hall hit his wife after tossing back a few beers, and he was so out of it, he just passed out. And in his segment, we saw the effects of what excessive drinking can do to you. How else can you explain Hall implying that I was immature because I brought up his drinking. The point of bringing up his drinking before was to point out that he doesn't bring ratings by wrestling, he brings them with backstage controversy. He took it way out of line. It's funny though, because we have a man who is one of the biggest partiers of them all, implying I'm immature. Fine Hall, say whatever you want. You said you were going to beat Al Snow, but did you? Hell no. The list goes on from there. I think you're losing your touch. Before I came, you may have been the man, I don't know and I don't care, but all I do know is you're not the man when you let a Television Champion kick your ass. Here you are a World Title contender, and the first PWO Champion, getting beat by the Television Champion. Historically, the Television Champion is way out of the World Champion and his contenders' league, but you bridged that gap in a huge way, Hall. Now, you say I'm dumb? Lone Wolf, I don't think that name suits you. I think we should call you "The Dumb Ass" Scott Hall, because if you have the audacity to call me dumb, then say the Wolfpac is dominant in this federation, you must be one dumb motherfucker! Al Snow has been taking you guys out left and right, and you have the nerve to say you're dominant. Shut the fuck up, Hall, the more you talk, the dumber you sound. Are you sure you're not hitting the bottle? Not even a little bit? Let's go back to another dumb ass comment you made, Hall...

Gunn, with remote in hand rewinds the tape to...

"The Dumb Ass" Scott Hall: Gunn you can talk about winning the big match but chico you have done nothing, you have not won a big match either so you need to put up or shut up.

Mr. Ass: The big word here is "either" ladies and gentlemen of the jury. So you admit that you are a choke artist and you haven't won a big match, chico? Hell yeah, you said it in your segment. Now allow me to tear down this argument like a good little lawyer. Scott Hall, how can you put me on your same level when I have just arrived here in PWO. Don't understand, of course you don't. What I mean is, I've just gotten here. I haven't had the chance to win a big match. You've been here apparently since the doors opened, and you just admitted that you haven't won the big match yet. See what I mean? If I had the amount of time you have had in this fed, I'd already be on my way to the Hall of Fame. Pat Patterson was the first Intercontinental Champion in the World Wrestling Federation. Does that make him one of the best wrestlers ever? Does that make him the best Intercontinental Champion ever? No, you idiot! So don't brag about that. You and him were at the right place at the right time, and that place was in your respective federations, and the time was when the competition was at a laughable level. What's also laughable is how many times you referred to me being a pretty boy. You said it, queer, not I. You're not getting sweet on me, huh, Hall? What's going on here? I know I'm a good-looking son-of-a-Gunn, but damn, attracting guys too? Oh well, whatever you're offering on the sneak, I'm not accepting. Look, I'm done with this, because frankly, I'm a little bored at having a laugh at your expense. You're a boring person past all your short comings, Hall. Like... Al Gore. Let me make it that simple, chico, I'm in, you're out. It's just that freakin' simple. Well, maybe that's a little to hard. There are rumors flyin' around that you didn't graduate from high school. And you call me dumb. Anyway, what that means is when I hit that ring. I'm talking about when my music plays, and the fans' cheer his the ceiling, and I come running to the ring, as soon as I get in there, you're getting your ass tossed courtesy of The Ass Man. People are tired of seeing you, old man. What are you, forty three now? Dying your hair, huh? Do you? Answer me. You ignored that the last time. Anyway, getting back on track. You will not win the rumble. Why? Because I'm winning the rumble. 'Nuff said.

Michael Cole: Well, Rey Mysterio said a little something-

Mr. Ass: Who cares?!

Michael Cole: Well, we have enough time for you to speak on a couple of wrestlers. Please take this time to do so.

Mr. Ass: I don't mind if I do. Big Poppa Pump! You're up! I'm jumping right into this one. PWO may need more main eventers now that so many seem to be falling out of competition. I ask them, here and now, do you want Steiner to be the guy? Scott Steiner would depreciate, not only the World Title division, but hell, the entire promotion. Heís just not good enough. Thereís no other way to explain it, and you cannot deny it. Heís just not ready. Who is he fooling? Heís stepping into the ring with Billy Gunn, and the other top main-eventers in the federation. I'm the self proclaimed top wrestler in wrestling today, and soon, it won't be self proclaimed, but world renowned. Steiner doesn't have a prayer in this match. He's cooked before we've turned on the grill. I have a good five inches on him in height. I am, sure as hell, stronger than him. Iíll take that munchkin over my head, and bury his midget ass into the canvas, with a Gorilla Press Slam. Mind you, he looks like the ďgorillaĒ. He small body will flop, and bounce on the canvas, leaving him unconscious. Yeah, thatís the way itíll go down. Follow that up with a Jackhammer, then a Fame-Ass-Er, and Steiner is out of the picture in the first two minutes of the match, if that long. Quicker? Donít be fooled by the fact that Steiner is smaller. When it comes to the greatest athlete this sport has ever seen, Billy Gunn, things like this just donít matter. Iím quicker than Steiner. Steiner wrestles like a big man, and heís quite stubby because some muscles are larger than others. He just has a horrible build for a wrestler. While heís bent on his arms, he doesnít concentrate on a body thatís fit for the ring. His problem, right? Not mine. Now we go to the amount of moves. Come on. Iím The Ass Man. The Ass Man will prove that the Fame-Ass-Er is one of the most devastating moves in the wrestling world today. The list only grows and expands in diversity. From dropkicks, to Diving Fame-Ass-Ers, I have it all. What does Steiner have? The Steiner Recliner. Get real. Do you honestly believe that this move can stop me? If so, commit yourself, because youíre out of your freakin' mind!

Shawn Michaels. The Heartbreak Kid. The Showstoppa. The Main Event. The idiot who has more self titles than he does accomplishments in this promotion. Here's an idea, take away most of your self proclaimed nicknames, and add one everytime you do something worthwhile. You're number thirty in the rumble. Congrats. With your record, it should be a walk in the park for you. The man who was in the rumble the longest time, who came away with a victory. Wait a second. That never happened in PWO, did it? So, really, in Mr. Ass' book, it never happened. Besides, you were in your prime then. Now you're just backsliding to retirement. Bad back, along with a lot of other constantly nagging problems will keep you from being truly active in this rumble. And in a rumble, you have to be active. You're far from being a kid, Kid. You closing in on being middle-aged, and not by how old you are, but how old your injuries have made you. A bad back injury can add about ten years to your life. So, you're about forty six? Damn. You're a regular Hogan or Flair. Well, maybe not that old yet, but you're getting there. Kid, you're a very arrogant person. I know this because people have compared me to you. Not wrestling, but attitudes. I think a lot like you Kid. I am a very arrogant person, just like you. I think I'm cute. I know I'm sexy. I've got the look, that drives the girls wild. Well, you came before me Shawn. You are an Icon in sports entertainment, but you're not a threat anymore. It's over Shawn. Go back to your Texas Wrestling Alliance. You're a big sports buff. You used to make references to sports all the time. You see, I can remember a time when you said that you were Jordan and Flair was Larry Bird, when the wrestling media was calling you the next Ric Flair. You said that Larry Bird dominated in his time, but something better always comes around, and that something is Michael Jordan. You then made the link that Flair dominated in his time, but you exceed his ability, because something better always comes along. Shawn, I guess you never thought those words would come back to haunt you but... I'm your replacement. Michael Jordan has retired and so has your career. You just haven't joined it yet. Now the NBA has Kobe, Vince, Allen... Too many replacements. That's where the sports just don't fit the mould of your theories. That doesn't mean it isn't true. It's very true, Shawn. If you're not ready to pass the torch, I'm going to rip it away at the Royal Rumble. I become the new you then, Shawn. You never saw this coming, huh? Especially when you were trashing Flair. Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and what goes around comes around. You can bet your ass I'm going to come around and knock you over the top rope at the Rumble.

Michael Cole exits the room with his cameraman, as Gunn stands up and sees them out the door. He hurries them out, then slams the door. He turns to Derek and says...

Mr. Ass: Let's break out of here.

Derek: How?

Mr. Ass: Window.

At that, the guards walk into the room. Both at nearly seven feet, they look down on Billy Gunn. He looks up and smiles, then says...

Mr. Ass: What's going on fellas?

Guard #1: You goin' somewhere?

Mr. Ass: Yes, I would like to watch some television. You'd think that a superstar like myself would at least be able to have a television in his room.

Guard #2: That can be arranged, please come this way.

Derek follows Gunn and the guards out of the room. Gunn stops at the entrance to his room. The guards lock the door to his room, for reasons I have no clue about.

Mr. Ass: ... Okay... Anyway, I'd like to sit here on this bench for a little while, and maybe talk to those who are passing.

Guard #1: That's fine Mr. Gunn.

Gunn and Derek take the seat. An elderly man in a wheel chair rolls by. Gunn gets a smile on his face, and stands up. The guards quickly take notice and walk behind him as he catches up with the man in the wheel chair. He rushes him from behind and pushes him down the hallway as hard as he can, sending the old man down the hall at lightening speed. The guards in the interest of the man's safety run after him. Gunn signals Derek to follow, as he enters another patient's room. He busts open the door to find a patient and a nurse getting busy! He runs, then leaps over the two in the bed. he proceeds to open the window, but stops. He rushes back to the bed, and slaps the girl on the ass. She screams as Gunn finds this humorous. He now gets back on his previous goal as he opens the window, and climbs out. He's in the issued hospital gown, which is showing his ass and from the perspective of those below, his balls. He's on the second floor, and he hates heights. He begins to quiver a little, which leads to him slipping off the window pane. The gown gets caught on another window on the way down, leaving Gunn butt-naked in public. He takes a leaf off a nearby tree, then runs like hell. Derek is shown in the window, with a smile... I guess he's broken out of the little trauma he was in before. From the distance, Gunn says...

If you don't like it, three simple words...

Kiss My Ass!

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