"I find it funny that after I practically win the HPW heavyweight championship for Morlo, he goes on to lose it in his first title defense. Not only does he lose it, he loses it to Daunte, a man who has done nothing but come up short during his entire HPW run."
Jimmy Duxen sits relaxed in an expensive recliner in his upscale St. Louis home. In his left hand, he has a bottle of bear that he sips every couple of words. His hair is neat and slicked back, he is dressed sharply in a flashy Italian suit. He is very overdressed.
"And who could forget Draven, the forth man in this tag match? I could, that's who, as he has proven himself to be a nobody. Sure, he's beaten Daunte a couple of times here and there - but that's not much of an accomplishment."
"This Friday, I will team with Morlo - however, I will not let him cost me what I am destined to achieve. Oh no, you see, I will score the pinfall and be that much closer to casting a shadow far bigger than the one cast by the RETIRED Old Man Duxen."
Duxen finishes his beer and stands up, looking directly into the camera.
"HPW, you really do make this too easy. See ya Friday night..."