Good evening everybody. Our former narrator was uhm... injured... recently and will not be able to serve as your narrator anymore. I will be doing that from now on.

Jovial Jake has managed to do it. He won. .... Yay for Jake. Uhm.... yeah.

Jake: Uhhhgh....

Jake jerks in his bed a little and rolls over, unknowingly headed straight for the edge. He happens to open his eyes and sees what he's doing, but it's too late. THUMP! Jake hits the floor, taking the covers of the bed with him, and probably awakening his next door neighbors of the motel with that.

A hand appears from the other side of the bed and begins feeling about on the bedside table. When it feels the shape of the alarm clock in its grasp, it attempts to pull the alarm clock off the stand. However, what the hand doesn't know is that the cord to the alarm clock is caught underneath the lamp; and when the hand notices the resistance of the clock, it simply gives the clock a good tug.

Jake: Sumbitch!

That is what we will hear in a moment.

The lamp tips over and falls. The sounds of that glass-like stuff they use to make lamps shattering fills the air.

Jake: Sumbitch!

See? I told you so. Jake's head slowly rises up from the other side of the bed, and we see a few small cuts on his face. His eyes are still narrow, trying to adjust to the light, and he peers over the top of the bed, as if looking for someone or something. He slowly stands up, the covers of the bed wrapped around his body. A knock at the door startles Jake, and he almost falls over again when he jumps. He walks over to the door and answers it, seeing that the one who knocked was one of the motel's cleaning people. She asks him if everything is alright, and Jake explains what happened. The woman nods and walks away, and when Jake shuts the door and turns around to walk towards the bathroom, he trips over the covers of the bed and hits the ground with another THUMP!

Jake: Uhhhh.... it's too early for this horse shit.

Instead of standing again, Jake crawls towards the bathroom. He disappears inside and closes the door.

.::Some Time Later::.

Jake grabs his cowboy hat and pushes it onto his head. He adjusts the way it sets to ensure a comfortable fit, and walks back towards the door when it's knocked upon. He looks to be doing a lot better now than he was earlier, and he greets the camera crew with a handshake.

Jake: Just set up wherever y'all need to.

A few moments pass as we await the camera crew to set up their equipment. Jake uses this time to pull a chunk of tobacco leaves out of a pouch marked "Levi Garret" and shove it in his cheek. He chews on it for a few moments, then spits the dark brown tobacco liquid into the trash can. Mmm.... nothing like a good ol' dip to get things rolling.

Jake: Ready?

Camera Operator: Yep.

Jake grabs the chair that's used for the desk and turns it around so that the back of the chair is against the desk. He grabs the trash can and sets it next to the chair, then sits down and places his elbows on the desk, crosses his legs, then stares at the camera. Camera Operator: Action in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

The film begins rolling and we cut to a different view, a view in which all we can see is Jake.

Jake: Keaton, we both know we gotta face each other again come Bloodlust, and if you ask me it's a load of shit because I already done beat you. Now I know that if you wanna get really technical, I didn't beat you because you were disqualified, but I've never been one for technical jibberish. I had you beat, and you know that as well as I do, or anybody else that seen that match. You know that if you didn't think of something quick, I was gonna pin your ass and you would've had to spent the night feeling sorry fer yerself because you couldn't keep that oh-so-unimpressive winning streak of yours going.

That... or maybe you just don't have the guts to get pinned. What did I tell you before the match? What were my words? I'll tell you again what they was. They was "Nobody's gonna remember that I beat you in a few months." That's exactly what they was, or pretty darn close anyways. But instead you make a bigger fool out of yourself by getting disqualified as opposed to taking the pin like a man. That has to suck, because now people are gonna remember that. Everytime they see you, they're gonna remember you as the one that couldn't take it like a man, and they'll never let you ferget it. I know how that kinda stuff goes, because it's happened to me before, and there are some people today that still don't let me ferget it. Oh well.

Jake takes a moment to spit some tobacco juice into the trash can.

Jake: My point here, Keaton, is that this time around it ain't gonna be like that. This time I will pin you and I won't take no fer an answer, and ya know why? Because this one is a no DQ match, and that means I can do whatever the hell I want to you and get away with it. No, I didn't request to face you again and I didn't request the no DQ stipulation, and as much as it sickens me that I gotta put you away fer a second time, I'm almost kinda glad it worked out that way.

Now I ain't gonna bullshit ya and try to convince you that I'm some kinda hardcore wrestling fanatic 'cause I ain't. I enjoy the standard matches more than anything, but I do enjoy a no disqualification or hardcore match every now and then and I'm gonna have fun traumatizing you fer the next few weeks. I'll make sure to bust open that face of yers so you gotta get some stitches, then you can freak out about it for the next few weeks. Mebbe you'll even be so concerned with gettin' it fixed that you'll give wrastling a break and let us real wrastlers show 'em how it's done, or at least we can all hope.

Jake smiles a shit-eating smile into the camera, and the scene fades to black.