[A man in black sits on a beach, staring out at the ocean. He turns as he hears footsteps approaching, a man in white, carrying a gold wrestling belt on his shoulder, walks towards him.]
Man in Black: Hello, Jacob.
[Jacob pulls out a second belt and tosses it to the Man in Black.]
Jacob: Something to help pass the time.
[The Man in Black picks up the belt, seeing the words "United States Champion" on it. He throws it in the sand.]
Man in Black: I don't want this. I want you have.
Jacob: You can't have the strap. Those are the rules.
Man in Black; I'll find a loophole.
Jacob: You can't. You don't have a good enough workrate.
Man in Black: You're a vanilla midget. I have a better look.
Jacob: You're not as over.
[Jacob holds up his belt, bringing on a loud cacophony of whispers.]
Man in Black They're smarks. They don't represent mainstream wrestling audiences.
[He looks back out at the ocean, then over to Jacob.]
Man in Black: Do you know how bad I want to kill you?
Jacob: I know.
Man in Black: I will one day, you know.
Jacob: I'll be waiting. So will our spanish announce team.
[Jacob points to the ocean, where an old Spanish Galleon is in the horizon. The Man in Black smiles.]
