The last time we checked up on Jovial Jake, he was teaching Bill Ogilvy some manners and going on about how he's not impressed with Grant Keaton's two whole wins. What else can I say? Uhm.... titties? Yeah... titties.

Footsteps are heard approaching in the background.

Hey, what are you doing? What? NO!

Suddenly the sounds of some pimp-slapping going on are heard, along with our friendly narrator screaming in agonizing pain. We hear another man speak up.


More sounds of pimp-slapping are heard, as well as the screams.

The scene fades into view on a local New Orleans street, whatever it may be called. Hundreds upon thousands of young men and women, most of which have either bottles or plastic cups of beer in their hands, are screaming and shouting and raising quite the ruckus. As you may've guessed, the reason for this is Mardi Gras. (Authors Note: I'm still unsure of when Mardi Gras takes place, but dammit, this is fantasy wrestling soooo... get outta my face! lol) The camera begins to pan around the scene, and we spot a cowboy hat sticking out of the crowd. On a hunch, the camera-operator-person-thingie-majig, begins pushing through the crowd towards the hat. It pushes it's way into a small clearing, and sure as shit stinks, we see Jovial Jake partying. A plastic cup in his hand, it looks as though he's teaching some petite city chicks how to line dance. ... DAMMIT! ... But what the Hell... they are pretty good-looking! Jake walks around behind one of them, places his hands on her hips, and helps her through the motions. Mysteriously, we can hear him and the woman over the rest of the crowd. Odd, ain't it?

Jake: That's it lil' darlin. Now just push that cute lil' behind of yers to left, then back to the right, and step forward like that. There ya go.

Woman: Where'd you learn to do this? You're really good at it.

Jake: It's a common thing 'round where I grew up.

Woman: Where was that?

Jake: Sante Fe.

Woman: What are you doing way over here?

Jake: The company I werk fer has me on the road a lot. Had a stopover in New Orleans this week.

Woman: Oh? What company do you work for?

Jake: BadLands Pro Wrestling.

Woman: I knew you looked familiar!

Jake (grinning): Oh yeah?

Woman: Yeah... you debuted last week, right? You're that new guy, Jovial Jake.

Jake: That'd be me lil' darlin.

Woman: Wow... I've never met a real T.V. wrestler before. Can I have your autograph?

Jake: Certainly. Let's get on back to my hotel room, I got me some paper and pen there.

Woman: OKAY!

Jake and the woman push through the crowd as the scene fades to black.

The scene returns momentarily, and it is clearly the next morning. Jake is staring out the window, sipping on a cup of coffee, and from the other room, the woman he walked off with last night comes in, fully clothed. Jake is fully dressed as well(thank all that is holy!) with the exception of his cowboy hat (AHHHHH!).

Jake: Sleep well?

The woman stops in her tracks, surprised that Jake didn't even turn around.

Woman: About as good as I've ever slept ... I guess.

Jake: Good to know. Look, I hate to be rude, but I got some things I gotta take care of today. The show's tonight so I've got to prepare.

Woman: That's okay. You did more than enough for me last night, and I've got to be getting back to my hotel.

Jake: Well alright then.

Jake turns around and hugs her, and she kisses him softly on his stubble-covered cheek. She smiles at him as she walks out the door.

Woman: Thanks again.

Jake: Sure thing.

Jake smiles back at her, and she leaves. Jake notices the camera and looks straight into it.

Jake: What? Like you wouldn't have given her an autograph?

Jake takes another sip of his coffee.

Jake: Well, I was waiting fer Mr. Two Wins to speak up again, but I guess since he's too busy worrying about his so-called style, I'm gonna have to do this. Keaton, I'm gonna make this as simple as I can fer ya. Then again, with the intellect it must take to be a model, that probably ain't gonna be an easy task.

Simply put, we obviously come from completely different backgrounds. You with yer modeling, me with my bullriding. Clearly our opinions are gonna differ when it comes to style, class... whatever. In yer eyes, I'm a nobody, a lowlife... someone that feeds from the bottom of the barrel. In my eyes, you ain't nothin' but one of them people that has way too much time on their hands, and more of an ego than is good fer 'em.

But that'll all change come tonight. It looks as though we both got a plenty of aggression towards each other to get rid of, but I ain't gonna let that fog my mind. I'd say there's a bit of pressure on both of us tonight as well. Pressure on you to keep that almighty "winning streak" of yers going, pressure on me to both end that "winning streak" and to get my rise to the top on the way.

Regardless, ya shouldn't let it get ya down. In a few months, nobody's gonna remember you lost to me anyway. It'll be damn near ancient history, for the BLPW at least.

Jake simply stands up and walks out of view. The scene fades to black.