I'd walk through fire for you.

[Visit Neom]

The shot fades up on a high school gymnasium in Georgia. Various independent wrestlers, some with GUNS and others just starting their careers, hurry to get the ring assembled. Doug, dressed in his signature nWo shirt, supervises proudly. He then notices the commotion at the concession stand. A pizza has gone missing? He lets out a sigh.

Doug:

I’ll be right back, guys.

Doug heads into the locker room. We see Disney's Marty Donovan dressed in a screen accurate costume of Woody from Toy Story. The Hardkore World champion leans back in a folding chair and had his legs up, resting on a pile of other wrestlers' gym bags. In his lap is a large box of pizza that he’s devouring. Meanwhile Tinto sulks in a Pizza Planet alien costume. The fake orphan toils through a stack of Marty headshots, stamping each of them with a fake autograph as he eyes the pizza jealousy.

Tinto:

Mister Marty, pretty please may I have some pizza?

Marty:

Finish my autographs first and we'll talk.

Tinto:

I want some now!

Marty:

Well, I wanted to watch the 70th annual Beanpot, to see the greatest team on ice, Boston College. My boys were facing those scumbags from Boston University. The stakes couldn’t have been any higher, a bronze medal! Instead, I had to drive to Georgia to save your ass from some Robosaurus ripoff.

Tinto:

I would have been champion if it wasn’t for you!

Marty looks up at Doug and shakes his head.

Marty:

Can you believe this little brat? Kid thinks he can just play wrestler from time to time, like the daycare version of Cross Recoba.

Doug is not amused.

Doug:

That pizza is for the concession stand. It's one of the few ways little shows can make money.

Marty:

No, they make money when I am gracious enough to appear in shitholes like this. If you don’t want to lose your teeth then you’ll apologize and thank me for the fucking house.

Tinto:

Yeah, thank us for the fucking house!

Marty:

Hey! Don't ever say that word, Tinto! “Us.” You know damn well who sold this place out.

Tinto:

The youngest Sippy Cup winner in history!

Marty glares at Tinto before turning back to Doug.

Marty:

Life lesson for a nobody. It doesn’t matter if you’re Huey, Dewey, or Louie. I’ll always be the big duck swimming in a vault of gold. I run this show. Guess what that means? Duckie eats first.

Marty takes an arrogant bite into a slice. Doug stands his ground.

Doug:

It disgusts me that you’re in GUNS. We wanted to honor Mrs.Wombat’s life and your stupid Disney matches ruined that. I can’t wait to take the Phoenix from you.

Marty starts laughing. Tinto joins in just to be part of something.

Marty:

First, I’m never appearing in GUNS again. If Magnus wants his belt back then he can open the checkbook. Second, if I was to defend this meaningless title it wouldn’t be against puroresu Patton Oswalt. You want to talk about disgust? It disgusts me that you share a name with Flutie.

Doug:

No, we’re having a title match. You’re going to let me win too. I guarantee it.

Marty:

Why would I throw a fight to some ring crew reject?

Doug:

Because I’m the one person that can save your life.

Marty:

Get real. Zoran must be in a full body cast now. My life isn’t in danger at all.

Bored with this conversation, Marty lowers the hat over his eyes and leans further back in his seat. Doug taps the bottom of the cowboy boot where the name “OLLIE” is scribbled.

Doug:

You forgot about the Harry Styles presale.

Terrified, Marty falls backwards in the folding chair and crashes to the floor. The pizza box flies up into the air and spills all over his Woody cosplay. Tinto runs across the room, scattering autographs everywhere, and begins to eat slices off the ground.

Marty:

FUCK!

Marty begins to frantically dig through the pile of gym bags, hunting for something.

Doug:

Us “ring crew rejects” often blend into the background. You didn't see me at the hotel bar yesterday. I sure saw you though, knocking back drinks and screaming at a college hockey rerun. Poor Ollie was being completely ignored on facetime.

Growing more desperate, Marty starts tossing the wrestlers bags across the locker room in a mad search.

Doug:

Your cellphone is in the cowboy vest.

Marty yanks out his cellphone and types in "Hurry Stiles Oarlandoe" before pounding enter. Doug shakes his head as Tinto continues to feast.

Doug:

Man, you really weren't paying attention. She didn't ask for Orlando tickets. It was Palm Springs, after the big Hardkore World show.

Marty rushes to correct the search term.

Doug:

Also it was the VIP Meet and Greet. The one that sold out in minutes.

Marty opens one of the gym bags and throws up in it. He seals it. Doug has a smug grin.

Doug:

Guess who got the last two tickets? Puroresu Patton Oswalt.

Marty:

I have 12 grand on me. It can be yours.

Doug bursts out in laughter. Once again, Tinto joins in to belong.

Doug:

Keep it. If you want the Harry Styles tickets then you're going to lay down for the three count. I'm not interested in beating a Disney shill either. I want a Japanese legend, The Rising Sun.

Marty's jaw drops in shock.

Marty:

Are you kidding me! I can't let you beat The Rising Sun. That was the gimmick I used when people actually respected me.

Doug:

Yes and the only person who still does thinks they're going to get to hug an X-Factor contestant.

Marty:

I will admit I struck out yesterday, but look at the career stats. I'm a first ballot boyfriend hall of famer. Multiple cruises! Countless dinners at Tiffins! Hell, I own a Mediterranean five bedroom in Cele-fucking-bration, Florida!

Doug shakes his head and begins to walk out.

Doug:

Be sure to mention all that when you explain why she'll never know what Hazza smells like.

Marty follows him on his knees and grabs Doug’s leg.

Marty:

Wait! Wait! Don’t go! You win you son of a bitch. I accept the deal.

Doug:

Good. You learned an important lesson today, Martin.

Doug picks up a slice of pizza off the ground and shoves it into Marty’s face. The livid champion just lets it drip down, powerless.

Doug:

Dougie eats first.

Doug exits with a swagger. The shot fades out as Tinto starts picking toppings off of a livid Marty’s face and eating them.