The scene opens once again on the West Coast of the United States. The exact location would be San Diego, the home of the San Diego Chargers, and it's also the current location of one Badd Ass Billy Gunn, the most popular man in the World Wrestling Federation among fellow wrestlers. We find him on a highway in this respective city, stuck in a traffic jam, much to the thanks of a large accident about one mile ahead from where he sits. Billy Gunn's luck may be down, but with his race track white striped blue Viper, he can't be down for long. Billy Gunn waits impatiently in this car wearing bluejean overalls with his trademark beaded necklace. He is also wearing sunglasses with light blue transparent lenses. At the present time, his car is dead in it's tracks, as well as everyone around him. Suddenly, a man with a camera man comes into the picture, manueving between the stopped cars. Billy Gunn hears the grunts of the camera man, and turns to see him in the distance, closing in on his car. Billy slams his steering wheel, and sighs in disbelief and frustration. Finally, the camera man reaches the car, and takes a seat in the passenger side of the vehicle. Wondering why Billy Gunn would allow him entry to his lovely vehicle? The WWF has made it clear that you are not to turn down an interview at anytime, or you'll face the consequences.
Mr. Ass: Now what the hell do you want?
Camera Man: I would like-
Mr. Ass: Shut up! Dammit, I know why you're here... I'm in a traffic jam for Christ's sake! How did you find me here?
Camera Man: I-
Mr. Ass: Shut up! I don't want to hear from you! This is my time, my show, and this will soon be my federation. Oh, you didn't know? Your ass better call somebody. No, better yet, listen to me and I'll give you this week's edition of Ass Talk. Call it a show, call it whatever the hell you want. Since I have all this time, I guess it's time I use it in a productive sense. I have my car phone here for my fans to call in and shower me with praise. I have you, the camera man to shoot the most beautiful specimen in Sports Entertainment. I also have a little wine in the back seat. No, this wine ain't the cheap stuff. Get this, made in 1967. Oh yeah, Billy Gunn has only the best and deserves on the best. Well, lets get an introduction goin' here... How about this, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls- Nah, Jesse James ran that one into the ground. He's used the same damn introduction since Ghandi was born. Okay, got it... Finally, the Ass has come back- No, no, no... I don't know if I've ever been here before, and I doubt The Rock has ever set foot in a lot of the places he's claimed. Jack ass. I guess I'll have to work on that... Oh, it just hit me! That's right... The British Bulldog, the first ever WWF European Champion is fixing to win back that prestigious title for a third time. Ah... That introduction definitely sucked... Forget an introduction... A man like myself needs no introduction! Who's ass compares to mine? My ass is critically acclaimed, and I may have an Oscar Nomination for it. It's quite the sight, so perhaps a Nobel Prize is in the future for me. With my talent, this ass, and my incredible looks, people, the sky's the limit. Stephanie, you gotta see this, babe. C'mon, the future of this company is staring you in the face, but you don't give him the time of day. Elevate me past the chump belts, like the European Title, Hardcore, and Intercontinental. Only a chump would actually want these belts. To be a competitor, you must always crave to reach to the top in your respective field of competition. By striving for lesser titles, you lose the game before you even start playing. So let's make this perfectly clear to my fans and my fellow wrestlers, I never asked for this road to the European Title.
The cars ahead of Billy Gunn begin to pull away from him, but Billy doesn't notice this. Horns from behind begin to sound off Billy Gunn finally makes notice of the moving traffic. He puts his car in the appropriate gear and drives on...
Mr. Ass: Well it's about damn time! I've been here for hours now... Hey, what the hell!
The cars ahead of Billy Gunn are put into reserve and if Billy does not change he progression, they'll hit each other dead one. Billy Gunn frantically switches gears and backs up as fast as possible. Krackt!
Mr. Ass: Ah, hell!
Billy's tail bumper strikes driver behind him in his front bumper. Billy Gunn shakes his head, and begins to swear without any regard for his viewers. The camera man shuts down the camera, as Billy places on his breaks, and exits the car. He walks to the car that hit him, and pulls him half way out of his car by his collar. The driver begins to beg, as Billy can't help but laugh. He tosses the man back into his car.
Mr. Ass: You owe me!
Driver: Yes, yes! I have a check for you! Do you take checks?
Mr. Ass: Just give me my money!
The driver quickly whips out his check book and writes a check for over one thousand dollars. This hits Billy with a surprise as he smiles and gives a thumbs up signal to the camera man sitting in his car. The driver finishes writing, and Billy snatches it from his hand.
Mr. Ass: If this check bounces, I'm gonna bounce you!
Billy returns to his car and enters. The camera man glares at him and then begins to laugh. Billy looks at him, quite upset indeed. Billy then laughs with him surprisingly. The camera man lowers his camera, and out of nowhere, Billy sticks him in the chin with a right jab. The camera man's head hits the window, and Billy then says...
Mr. Ass: Now that's funny. Roll the camera, I have a show to give loser!
Camera Man: You're going to hear from Ms. McMahon on this situation.
Mr. Ass: Shut the hell up, you minimum wage, ass half out, under achieving, poor excuse for a camera man, breath smell like unkept ass, idiotic prick! Whoa...
Camera Man: Ow...
Mr. Ass: Okay, okay... Let's get going here. I have a lot of topics to cover. Raise that camera and make sure you get me in all my splendor as I rant and rave on the flaws of my adversaries. Now, whoever should we start with? Degeneration X? The British Bulldog? Ah, Stephanie McMahon just for giggles? Sheesh... Alright, we'll begin with Degeneration X. Better yet, the man whom I made big, The Road Dogg Jesse James. Jesse has absolutely not wrestling skill whatsoever. Ladies and gentlemen, throughout the course of our time together, all he did was run his mouth and use bullshit moves like his Juke 'n' Jive punches. Road Dogg, dare you say that you were to be credited for our success? Shame on you chubby... I was a champion before I ever met you. Were you? No. You were Jeff Jarrett's flunky. While I was on top of the tag team world with Bart Gunn, my friend, you were on your knees with your nose tucked deep in the ass of good ole' Double J. Am I lying? Get real, unlike you, I don't have to lie to get my point across. Playing guns? Saying Texan stuff? Asshole! You were singing country music, and playin' guitars with Jeff Jarrett! Really pal, who saved who? You're the one who can't survive on his own. I, for one, have proven that I can be just as good in singles competition as I am in tag team competition. You haven't. Now, lets put two and two together, and try to come to a reasonable conclusion. If I go on to singles competition and become quite successful, but you fail to do so, what does that tell you, loser? It should spell out, 'I carried you!'. I made the New Age Outlaws! X-Pac, really, you suck. I honestly don't want to hear anything from you, because where I stand, you are by far my inferior. Yet, I must tear down your allegations and make you look like a complete moron, which will be quite simple to do. Mic work makes champions, huh, X-Punk? No, my pot-smokin' little friend, wrestling makes champions. You don't beat people with your mouth, idiot. Jesse used his microphone work to cover up his slacking within the squared circle. I didn't have to say much, just the little that I did. Besides, if I did say more, I'd take away from Jesse, then he wouldn't have been special now would he?
Within the New Age Outlaw tag team, it was my job to kick ass and his job to call names. That's what made us great with the fans, my in-ring abilities and his mouth. However, what made us winners was credited all to me. Bottomline, no questions asked. Do you understand, X-Pac? Apparently not, because you had the nerve to call me a Hulk Hogan wannabe. Terrible, X-Pac. No have no intention of being another Hulk Hogan. I want to have the same impact as him on this sport, moron. You mistook everything I said because it's obvious you didn't and couldn't understand the words of an educated human being. You're the one screwing up 'Pac, so why don't ya' get your head out of your ass, or better yet, get your head out of Tori's. Ooo... Dumb Ass Billy Gunn. You're great, you got me... Feel the sarcasm. You and Road Dogg have spent to much time together and away from public. Who said Jesse and I had a match on Smackdown!? I have a match with Davey Boy, not a country bama like Jesse James. C'mon, don't tell someone to get there head out of their ass when you haven't pulled yours out of an ass yourself, little man. Smart wrestlers? You and the bitch, and don't let me start with Tori. You three are suppose to be smart wrestlers? Ha! I give Degeneration X two weeks tops, as to how long they're gonna be around if they're going to attempt to keep the group going riding the brains of the trio of retards. Tori, I pick my ass? Every see me do this, huh? Nah, just speculation. Speculation could get your ass kicked, little girl. And please, Tori, refrain from looking at my ass so much. Yes, I know the sight is quite attractive, but please, there's no need to obsess. I mean, how would you like it if someone obsessed over you? Uh... I guess you don't know the feeling. How about you X-Pac? Oh, you're not Billy Gunn. Of course you have no idea what I'm talkin' about. Okay, okay, Jesse, you've spent too much time with me not have some ladies swarmin' ya'... Heh, I guess I was mistaking.
Camera Man: I'd hate to cut you off, but what was with the whore that you were with last night?
Mr. Ass: Whore? I was with a whore last night? Oh, I see, you're taking the word of the Degenerates, huh? You see, my fat ass friend, you're making the mistake that many make. The Degenerates stand for one thing, bull shit in it's entirety. Their mascot is a freaking bull wallowing in his own feces. I do have an explanation as to who that young woman was. No one recognized her? I see... The young woman you saw oiling down my ripe and wonderful ass was not a whore, like Tori. It's obvious you were not paying attention. I went a massage parlor. Last I checked, that's not a crime, nor is it something to scoff at, jack ass. Now Road Dogg, I know your fat ass hasn't made the mistake and said I have to buy my women. Do you know who the hell you're talking to? By the way, I haven't seen you with any women Jesse. What? You and X-Pac sharing Tori. Well that's tag team action I don't want to be apart of gentlemen. And no, that doesn't count. She's not you lady Jesse. Now you and X-Pac don't be jealous. That's not good guys. I can't help that I was born a God, or was I even born at all? Was I sent from above on a golden chariot as a gift to women and this sport? That is a possibility. Perhaps I was sent here to boost the ratings like you said Jesse. Or did you say that? Ah, you were thinking it. Degeneration X is a thing of the past. Why don't you try and create something new, huh? No... You guys aren't smart enough for something like that. I don't care where Hulk Hogan is or how old he is. All I care about it myself. Yes, I am a victim of vanity. Why should I give a damn about anyone else? I'm all that matters, especially to this dying federation. And without me, the ratings would suffer further. Think of me as a savior, Stephanie McMahon. On another note, Degeneration X will never be the same without me. I was the biggest part of Degeneration X, but I was never given the credit. Now that I'm gone, my contribution will be missed greatly. You'll feel it and so will the fans.
The traffic begins to move once again, and Billy notices it this time, and move accordingly. He smiles, then laughs as he excited about finally going.
Camera Man: I don't mean to pry, but where are we going?
Mr. Ass: We're on our way to a photo shoot, man. By the way, what's your name?
Camera Man: Der-
Mr. Ass: It doesn't matter what your name is!
Camera Man: Huh?
Mr. Ass: Sorry, just always wanted to do that. Really. what is it?
Camera Man: Derek McMichaels, and no relation to Debra McMichaels.
Mr. Ass: Ah, I see. Well Derek, this photo shoot is definitely going to be something spectacular. Girls, girls, girls galore! Yet, the fun won't begin until I arrive. Wait, am I missing something? I have to be... Hmm... Ah yes! Davey Boy Smith. I have to totally humiliate Davey Boy Smith! This is a great time indeed, Derek. Davey Boy believes that he has rights to the European Title because he's from Europe and he's held the title before. I don't care either way, but really, that doesn't give the idiot rights to the title. I forgot one other detail, and that is he's suppose to actually have talent. Davey Boy simply has none. He's boring, short, stubby, and no one likes him. No one cares now that he's here, and no one will care when he leaves. His only hope of ever being famous is Thursday Night, when I make him famous with the Fame-Ass-Er. It will be his five minutes of fame, ladies and gents, credited to me. In the event that I knick his ass and put him in history as the first man I destroyed since my new venture into singles competition, he'll owe me. Yes, when you step into the ring with the greatest wrestler the World Wrestling Federation has to offer, you're bound to make a name for yourself. Now, whether that name is good or bad is beyond my control, but I guarantee, when you're walking down the street, someone will acknowledge you and say, "Hey, ain't you that guy who got his ass kicked by the greatest, Mr. Ass?". Ole' Davey Boy can then say, "Yes, that was me". Then he'll sign an autograph, because the person will be in awe that he actually stepped in the ring with me. Sounds good, doesn't it Davey Boy? Oh, by the way, you can forget about actually winning this bout. Such a thing would be quite out of the question, after all, you're going against the Badd Ass, with the nice ass, who kicks ass.
Delusional star? I am a star Davey Boy, and you're nothing. It's that simple. Don't envy me because I'm everything you want to be, but can't be. It's truly sad when losers like Davey obsess over the best. Ah, what can I say though. It's not like this is something new. This happens to me all the time. That doesn't mean I particularly care for it. Shawn Michaels was a great wrestler. He was great because he was undersized, but still found a way to dominate. As a matter of fact, you two had some tussels over the European Title in the past, correct? Damn right. He kicked your ass didn't he. He kicked your ass in the Royal Rumble, didn't he? That's when he made history, and because of his incredible finish in which he won in controversial fashion, you went down in history as the man who was last to be thrown out of the ring by the Heartbreak Kid. He made ya' famous, huh? Funny how you mentioned Shawn Michaels in this matter. The man who dominated you and went on to dominate the federation, leaving you behind in his dust. That's what will happen between us, Davey. I will dominate you, then proceed to dominate the federation. History repeats itself... I will destroy you, then win the European Title and shove the damn thing down your throat and down Kurt Angle's throat. After that, I'll win the title. The only title that matters. The World Title. No one has what it takes to contend with the Ass Man. Well, not here anyway. It's no mystery that the competition in a competing promotion has much more talent than this one. That's why I'm here people. The kids need a hero, the women need a man to dream about, and the men need someone to be jealous of. I'm that man, the best thing to ever happen to the World Wrestling Federation... The arrival of an Ass Man...
Billy exits the highway and pulls into the parking lot of a tall office building. The sun hits the windows of this building and truly captures it's beauty. Billy Gunn parks the car, and gets out, places his glasses on his forehead, looking on in awe at the massive building. The camera man exits the car as well, and gets a great shot of the building. Billy sighs, then motions the camera man to follow him. He pops the trunk open in his car, and reveals his abundance of weaponry. No, not fire arms. Water fire arms. Billy Gunn has a huge supply of waters guns from back in the days with Degeneration X. He removes three small handguns, and two large super soakers. He tosses the camera man a very small one as he places his guns in holsters, and places on of his large guns in his back holster.
Mr. Ass: Let's move...
A smile comes over the face of the camera man, but quickly changes to a frown as everytime he smiles, his chin hurts from when Billy struck him. The proceed into the building. When they enter, Billy stands at the entrance inside, as the front desk workers duck and scream. Billy smiles and the onslaught begins. He begins to spray everyone in his path, including the security guards who try and secure him. He manuevers through the people in the building, but not before spraying them, until he reaches the stairs. He quickly races up the stairs, as the camera man takes an easier way on the elevator. Billy loses the trailing security guards by ducking into a closet on the stair case. They run past, as he opens the door, and proceeds into the door next to it.
Mr. Ass: This is it, Floor 3.
He enters the door and walks slowly through the hall, looking for a certain room. He finds what he's looking for, as he opens the door slowly, but not before removing his first soaker. He quietly steps into the room, without being noticed by the women within the room, who are nearly bare naked in only two piece swimsuits. He laughs, gathering their attention... He then says...
Mr. Ass: Hello ladies...
The girls begin to scream as Billy proceeds to spray them, all eight women. The camera man later enters, and laughs at the chaos of Billy chasing the women through the room. The room, quite large, has one set in which the women were seated and talking, but of course, now they're running all over the place, trying to avoid the water onslaught by Billy Gunn. Unfortunately, water doesn't last forever, and the soaking wet women, take notice that Billy is running out of water. All eight advance on the titan, taking him from all sides. Billy, willingly falls to the floor with the soaking wet, beautiful models falls with him to the floor out of the view of the camera.
The scene fades there...
Mr. Ass: Ah, I hate it when this happens. I forgot something. I have come to the knowledge recently that I will be part in a King Of The Ring Qualifying match against Droz on Heat. Heh, are you kidding me? The WWF gave me this match because they know that there's no chance you have have a credible Pay Per View without the Ass Man. They know what Droz simply sucks, and that there's going to take a lot more than that to keep me out of the Pay Per View. I have seen Droz around the federation, and I have seen how much of an idiot he is. He must understand that he's about to go into a match with the greatest to ever grace his presence in the World Wrestling Federation. Droz, like Davey before him will have his ass handed to him in the middle of the ring on Sunday. He will stare into the rafters, and watch as I pin him for one, two, three and advance in the tourney. Droz, it doesn't matter what you have to say on the matter. You are not a factor in this decision. The decision has already been made. It was made when you were born. You were born a loser, like I was born a winner, so in essence, you were born to lose to me. It's fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it. That's just the way things work something. Blame your parents. Your dad, Billy Bob, and your mom, Mary Sue. Ask those pieces of trailor park trash why you were born a loser. Ask them why you'll never amount to anything in your life. Ask them why you'll end up living with them again in Bumfuck, Alabama, sipping on burben and shooting cans. Just ask them... So really Droz, if you can't comprehend the words that are coming out of my mouth, or you just don't agree with them, I have three words for you...
Kiss My Ass!
This has been an Ass Production, constructed for your viewing pleasure to stimulate the mind in intellectual thinking, and to turn on the ladies with the ever so frequent flashings of the Ass Man, Billy Gunn.