[It’s a nice day.]

[Not too hot.]

[Not too cold.]

[Birds dance gracefully in the wind, and people walking the streets do so a little slower; enjoying the serenity of the sunshine upon their faces.]

[Yet, not King COOL.]

[The wrestler, not the singer.]

[Say it real fast and maybe you’ll get it.]

[You see, instead of basking in the wonderful outside world, Cancer is hermitting away within the surprisingly cozy confines of his hotel room.]

[That said, alone King COOL rests with his ass sunken through a plush chair cushion. His feet are lazily resting atop a coffee table, and his fingers are snugly interlocked in such a way to support the back of his always styling hairdo.]

[From the look of it, seems as if the Philly native has forgone with the Holiday Inn’s no smoking policy, being a cloud of smoke created by not smoking cigarettes lingers about him.]

“Like. A. Fiddle.”

[King COOL whispers with poop-grin agape.]

“I didn’t even win, and I won anyway.”

“_That_ COOL.”

[The formerly homeless Defiance star begins nodding his head in self righteous agreement.]

“Guess it’s safe to say The Conquistador of COOL is back to his old tricks.”

[You can’t see it, but said Conquistador raises up a good seven eyelashes due to his head filling with hot air.]

“HA! NO JEFF, why don’t YOU join ME for the main event!”

[POP! His head explodes.]

[Just kidding.]

“AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHA. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. HAHAHAHAHHAHA.”

[The COOL as CANCER T-shirt wearing, always T-shaded up donning, Slayer of ALLLLLLLLLLLlllllllllllllllllLLLLLLLLL Mongoloids chokes for air between breath-stealing gasses.]

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHHAHAHHAHAHA.”

“HA.”

“OHMAIGAWD is he a doltapotamus~!”

[New word alert.]

“NOT_ ONLY did he get tricked into basically becoming my doorman, BUT then his precious little vixen gets handed her walking papers, too.”

“BAD?”

“NIGHT?”

“MUCH?”

[Lord COOL shakes his head, almost feeling sorry for his arch nemesis.]

“I think so.”

[A shrug.]

“Oh well.”

[With that, any feeling of remorse towards his arch nemesis is now erased.]

“That’s what you get when you play with COOL.”

[One of Cancer’s old/brand new slogans.]

[In the midst of all this shameless esteem-boasting, a gentle knock is heard at the door.]

“Who is it?”

“It’s Whammy.”

[For those who don’t know, Whammy, aka Whammy Jammy, was once King COOL’s manager/lawyer/assistant/confidant/butler/great grandfather figure.]

[Okay, maybe not great. But the dude is old. And extremely precise. And humble. And for some reason believes in Cancer Jiles.]

[Also, you should know Whammy gets paid for what he does.]

“Don’t you have a key?”

“No, remember you insisted I leave it in the room.”

“Oh... I did? Well, I’m kind of laying down right now, so it might take a while.”

“Okay, but you’re never going to believe who’s in the Heritage main event.”

[Overly excited, The Mongoloid Slayer springs from his chair, almost pulling a hammy in the process. He scorches his way towards the door, and abruptly stops just millimeters away from a violent collision.]

[Ripping open the door, Whammy is revealed in all of his three piece suit wearing glory.]

“IT BETTER BE FOCKING ME.”

[Whammy cracks a smile.]

“It is.”

“AND WHO DOES THE GREAT KING COOL FACE?”

[Seconds, that seem like hours, pass.]

“Christian Light.”

[Wincing like he bit into an onion, Cancer responds.]

“Who?”

“You must be stoned. He is the guy who won the TLC match.”

[A scowl comes over The Count’s face. Unamused with Whammy’s unwillingness to play along, he slams the door shut before his old pal could enter.]

“That’ll teach him.”

[Whammy, after a beleaguered sigh, turns and starts heading towards the elevators. While waiting for his ride he receives a text.]

[It reads: need more beverages]

[Whammy sighs again.]

[Indeed it would seem so... that Cancer the COOL is back up to his old tricks that is.]

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