FADE IN.

Dude, I was THIS CLOSE to shooting this in an alley.....　

Behind a LOVELY wooden desk, ornate and ready for any bit of business to be done, large or small, is the man himself, "The Ego Buster" Dan Ryan.

DAN RYAN: DREEEEEW SIIIIIIIIILER..... COME ON DOWN!!

You're the next contestant on....'DAN RYAN DOESN'T SEEM SO TOUGH TO ME, WHAT'S WITH THE HYPE AMIRITE???"

You sir, contestant number fifteen million, are a pleasure to be able to address this fine afternoon.

So I was going through your promotional pieces this morning, you know, abusing the hell out of the fast forward button in the process, and I have to tell you, really, I would think you're more known for irony than sarcasm, Drew. There's something about a guy who rails against incompetence and an overused cache' of wrestling stereotypes, thens spends a third of his time talking shit about a tee-vee correspondent.

Maybe the reason you don't have your celebrity moment when I come into the room is because while I've been everywhere (man), and done everything, you've been nowhere (man), and done nothing, or at least, nothing I've ever seen. I'm sure you were scintillating as the "numbers that spell boobies when you turn them upside down in a calculator" Cold Champion, but I never saw it. And, before you ask, the criteria for having ever done anything is that I saw it. This was established under the DEFIANCE by-law that discusses Dan Ryan hype. Either way, I can throw plenty of letters at you too, littered with plenty of belts I've won around those letters, including one I still have, and people around here actually KNOW me, so guess what?

I WIN.

I wish I could call that sarcasm.

You just don't know any better, Drew, and holding that against you would be like playing Lash Graham in a game of one-on-one and calling him for double dribble. Sometimes you just gotta let shit slide.

Now I don't know how ingrained your study and training regimen is, Drew, but while you're up there in the cabin with Uncle Tom, why don't you spend some of that time you supposedly spend working your ass off doing some cursory research of the people you're gonna be in the ring with? There are so many questions you could answer on your own about the Dan Ryan Legend.

How did it come to be?

Why does everyone seem so awed by it?

How many men died during its construction?

The truth is, Drew, all you have to do is... (Ryan taps the camera glass with each word) ...pay...a little...more...attention.

So far, you mostly come off as someone too enamored with the sound of his own voice to be taken too seriously, but me? I got this shit DOWN, kid. And when I say I got this shit down, I mean I got this shit DOWN. You took a hellacious beating from Cornrow Freddie and managed to roll him up and get out of there. I spiked him on his head and walked away, having put to bed a fifteen year rivalry in ten minutes. You're too busy complaining about how the results were communicated to the world to bother having any real insight into why you're you and I'm me.

Why don't you figure out why you're showing me a bunch of expositionary bullshit, using slack-ass insults and twisting your flower print underoos into a sheep-shank just because somebody might think I have some talent?

You've gotten more boring, more insignificant, more trite and more indistinguishable from a shart-stain Heidi Christiensen once accidentally left in the ring... than when I started this SENTENCE. How did you even do that?

Truth is, DREW -- I get hyped because for fifteen years AND COUNTING, I've been travelling the world, main eventing packed houses, putting on wrestling showcases and CREATING stars. I built companies with my ring-work, then I built a company by making a place where talented professionals can do more sit on a video clicking a stupid fucking mouse and telling stories about squeaky chairs and farting in the elevator. I get hyped, DREW, because I motherfucking DESERVE it. You don't deserve shit... and THAT, DREW.... is why I'm as hot as I've ever been and you and your career are as cold as the skin of a dead kimodo dragon.

You feel me? Cuz if you don't, DREW -- I'll make you feel me.

Take that chip off your shoulder and shove it up your ass.

And Lash -- Lash, I'm not gonna pick on you, Lash. I'm not gonna call you a retard for chrissakes. Just because a man speaks in broken English and talks to a stuffed armadillo makes him a retard? That hardly seems fair.

I'm certainly pleased that you enjoyed the Hobbit, Lash. The metaphors within certainly will provide you with the inner strength and emotional savvy to overcome the odds this week.

Errr -- I mean, movie about short guys with furry feets make Drew happy winner. Glow-y sword is PURTY.

It's not a big deal that you're not much for book learnin' and such, Lash. You don't have to be smart to punch someone in the face. And, you know, I'd be happy to help make your Disney dream come true. It seems about right, since in my mind I sorta think you should be up in a bell tower ringing the bells for mass in Paris.

But here's the thing, Lash -- you go and you fuckin' entertain people, Lash -- you go do that, and they'll love you for it. But -- don't think you're getting in the ring and beating me at DEE-THREE FOUR, because you're not.

It's best you stick with your critters. Oh, and tell Ellie Mae I said hi.

And Seth? Try showing up next time, shithead.

FADE OUT

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