“Fairies Wear Boots” by Black Sabbath blares over the speakers as Brawler Beckett makes his way from the back and down the aisle to the ring dressed in his wrestling gear and a towel about his neck.  The jeering of the fans causes him to pause and look at the audience with a look of self-righteous disgust.  He shakes his head and makes his way into the ring, microphone in hand.

Beckett:  “I’d like to begin by saying how welcome and at home I’ve been made to feel since coming to the Americas.  I won’t, though, because very few of you here have offered me the hospitality and the respect that I deserve.  Typical, really.  I’ve noticed that you lot- (waits for audience to quit jeering)  The longer you take, the longer until you get to see your welfare heroes play in my ring!  Now pipe down!

“Now, as I was saying, the vast majority of you troglodytes refuse to show me even the slightest bit of respect, even though I soundly beat … one might say ‘trounced …’ your masked super immigrant, who calls himself ‘Snow.’  People, if I may call you that, your loyalties are horribly misguided.  I can only assume that the internet and social media is somehow responsible.  In fact, it has been brought to my attention that you lot want me to give him another sound thrashing, spurred on by the vain hope that, somehow, that washed-up, broken down, almost-could-have-been-a-has-been sack of masked rubbish might pin me to my mat here. (roar from audience)  Would you like to see that?  You must, because it is scheduled for tonight!  (cheers)  Well, forget it.

“See, when my contract was composed, I made damned sure that I can be more selective about the matches in which I take part.  Now, I’ve already made that bastard tap out, the soundest form of defeat!  He SURRENDERED!  Can you understand that?  And for all his moaning about his eyes and his pathetic, useless groin, it was his bloody ankle over which tapped-out, so his complaints about one or two alleged underhanded moves are as much a load of poppycock as his failed attempt at another career here!  How often do I have to destroy someone before you sadists let it go?  Well, I refuse to be bullied you, so there it is.  Oh, he’ll wrestle again, more’s the pity.  He may even wrestle again tonight.  But understand: Snowflake will never, NEVER face me in the ring again!”

With that, Beckett drops the mic and leaves the ring, heading toward the back and his waiting car.

Gary Bloomfield:  “Well, this quite a turn of events.  Beckett has opted not to face Snow again and is leaving the arena!  Snow is still scheduled for a bout, we’re going to get this sorted out, folks!  Stay with us!”