[The pool was sparkling with the sun's reflection. The glimmer was outstanding, especially thanks to a few girls splashing and swimming. By the bar sat a beverage, condensation trickling down the side. A frosty cool drink with a wedge of pineapple made for none other than Thomas Hunter.]

[Edward White was no where to be seen, the only thing near by the southern Florida resort that reflected he was endorsing this trip was the booking and bills for the trip.]

[With drink now in hand, Thomas takes a sip from the comforts of pool chair.]

“Kort, are you familiar with Rosa's law? No, it's nothing like Murphy's Law; the idea that anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

“No, Rosa's Law is much different. President Obama signed into legislation that the word 'retarded' is no longer a medical to describe people like yourself. Instead, the legal medical term is 'individual with an intellectual disability'

“You Mr. Kort are intellectually disabled.”

[He smirks.]

“Let me remove all doubt for you. Edward White doesn't want to waste his time on you. He has assigned me with the responsibility of dealing with you. What I do is this, I listen to the incoherent babble you drool, I take meanings from the grunts and attempts at words you make and then I address Mr. White with the proper and eloquent points you attempted to make.

“As a former member of a fraternity, I am the perfect translator for those who suffered permanent brain damage from everclear poisoning or whatever your major malfunction is exactly.

“But Jimmy... or James... or whatever you want me to call you. You made my job very easy.

“I just had to say this phrase 'Kort says you can't beat him clean, so he challenged you to a dirty match'.”

[Thomas attempts to cackle, but his laugh lacks the experience, the cigar smoke and the fine wine to make it as robust as Edward does.]

“That.... That was his response Jimmy. He laughed for a good two minutes. Then he checked his stocks, Told SIRI to remind him to book a flight out to Miami and then said this to me, and I repeat verbatim.

“No. Tell Kort I will wrestle in the sanctioned match, one pin fall or submission, card subject to change.

“I asked if that was it and he told me to go down to Miami to pick him up some Key Lime Pie, make a day out of it.”

[Thomas takes a sip off of his drink.]

“Mr. Kort, that is confidence speaking. My boss says he can beat you one on one in that squared circle. He says he can wrestle a sanctioned match with a card subject to change. Mr. White doesn't need brass knuckles, platinum dust or a celebrity to come and do a run in.

“Do you know why he's so confident?”

[Do tell please.]

“In the business world, it's called competitive advantage. When a company or a firm does something that sets them ahead and superior to all of the rest, people take notice. In that ring and outside of it too, Edward White possesses something that alludes you: Intelligence.

“This is why you make the same mistakes time and time again. This is why you challenged Edward White to a No Holds Barred, No DQ, Falls count anywhere match. A match Edward White could easily win by the factors you had already complained about. Sure, you wanted to show you also had friends in low places, were capable of playing dirty and knew a few tricks of your own.

“Do you know what that makes you? A cheap imitator of successful business plan. You''re --”

[His iphone began to ring for a text alert. He looked down and grinned having read the preview.]

“You're in for a treat Mr. Kort.”

[Mr. Hunter laughs, attempting to compose himself.]

“Edward White wants three officials to enforced for this match.

“Three Referees. One on the inside, two on either side of the ring.

“... And I'm pretty sure he's got enough money to make somethin' like that happen.

“Right, Kort?”

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