"Preposterous! Deplorable! I need whoever is responsible for this!"
"Please sir, don't... I'm"
"Get me Jericho! Get me anyone... RIGHT NOW!!!!"
The unmistakeable voice of Paul Heyman was heard behind a wooden door displayed on the Titantron,
"But sir... I am just in charge of..."
Paul Heyman: Wrong answer... Drop him.
A loud thud was heard as the door swung open a second later... Ken Anderson walked out through the door with a smirk on his face, he wore an A**hole T-shirt, a green military cap and denim pants with black shoes... Anderson's arms held a trash can with a set of legs sticking out from the top... Apparently that was where Paul Heyman wanted to 'drop him'. Anderson and Heyman began walking, Anderson chewed on his bubble gum while the man inside the trashcan kicked and yelled... People in the back tried to stay away from the loudest duo in professional wrestling; as they walked, people just opened a path for them, wanting no business with Heyman or any of his associates... Throughout the past weeks they had struck fear into the EBWF. However, there were still some EBWF superstars and workers who refused to be bullied and pushed around... Jim Ross was one of them. He was having a cup of coffee at catering, surrounded by a few other crew members who scrammed at the horrifying sight. The man in the trashcan kicked and yelled louder, Anderson put the can on the ground and smirked at JR.
Paul Heyman: Jim! You're looking real good since our last encounter...
Paul reached over to pinch one of Ross' cheeks... Who looked disgusted.
Jim Ross: What exactly are you doing?
Anderson kicked the trashcan, the man yelled some more.
Paul Heyman: We're just taking out the trash... Speaking of trash, have you seen our brand new CEO?
Jim Ross didn't tell Heyman anything.
Paul Heyman: Do I really have to ask Ken to squeeze the information out of you?
Mr. Anderson: Come on Jimmy, why don't you tell me where Jericho is?
Jim Ross: I don't know where he is.
Heyman nodded, tipping Jim Ross' hat mockingly.
Paul Heyman: I guess... Squeezing information out of you would be overreacting. We don't want you to get... A heart attack or something... So if you excuse us...We have some trash to take care of, oh... And we need to dispose that trashcan too.
Anderson grabbed the trashcan and picked it up, both men walked past Jim Ross, who just scoffed and shook his head. The duo wouldn't advance long, as they ran into Michael Cole, he was wearing a dark blue suit and held a microphone on his hand... Anderson got right on his face.
Ken Anderson: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
Cole took a step back, stuttering a little.
Michael Cole: Er... Er... I just want to get your thoughts on...
Heyman's arm slowly coiled over Michael Cole's neck in a friendly manner, Cole's facial expression said it all: Horror.
Paul Heyman: Let's walk.
The duo walked with Michael Cole, Paul Heyman patted Cole on the back.
Paul Heyman: So... How do you like the climate in... Err... Whatever sh*thole we are in?
Michael Cole: I...
Paul Heyman: Great! Do you happen to know where Jericho Is? We need to have a word with him.
The trio continued walking until they reached a big dumpster... Where Anderson dropped the contents of the trash can, EBWF crew member included... Michael Cole Gulped. Heyman chuckled and pointed at the microphone he held on his hand...
Paul Heyman: Are you going to put that thing to good use or what?
Michael put the microphone closer to his lips as Anderson shut the dumpster closed, the man inside smashed his fists against the metal helplessly, Cole gulped some more, but tried to pull his act together.
Michael Cole: Mr. A-Anderson... Tonight you'd be facing...
Mr. Anderson: Shut. Up. Dip. It. Here.
Anderson extended his hand, Cole handed over the microphone.
Mr. Anderson: Alright... Around this time last year... I heard people clamour, bitch and moan about EBWF going nowhere fast... I decide to throw my hat back in the ring and give them a taste of what good talent really is... I pin a future World Champion, a Royal Rumble winner... I win the Intercontinental title and restore it's prestige... I work my ASS off with a torn leg, remain unbeaten... I bring back one of the biggest minds in the business... By his side I manage to assemble a group of unbelievable talent and unimaginable potential, destined to be on top of the food chain, above all the average Joes in this dump you call EBWF... And I STILL remain OVERLOOKED and UNDER APPRECIATED.
Paul Heyman: Unacceptable!
Mr. Anderson: Who do I have to beat? What do I have to do? Pretending to like these morons who chant for Cena and Punk is really that important? I'll do it if it means I will get what is rightfully mine! What I have earned with my hard work! Don't I even deserve a main event in my FREAKIN' HOMETOWN? A week later I am up against that squirt Evan Bourne! EVAN BOURNE!!!!!!
Anderson panted into the microphone.
Mr. Anderson: Let me tell you what I am going to to... First and foremost... I will DESTROY, Evan Bourne. I don't know the guy... I don't care who has he beaten and what has he won... I don't like that stupid smirk he always has on his face, I don't like his stupid hair! I don't like the way he sticks his two fingers up in the air... Is that how many fingers he wants shoved up his poophole or what? After he meets up with me there will be nothing to smile about and the only thing up his ass would be my boot!!!!
Michael leaned into the microphone, but Anderson pulled it away from him.
Mr. Anderson: You don't get speak! I know it sounds like I hate Evan Bourne... But as I said before I began talking about him, I DON'T KNOW HIM... But the fact of the matter is... I am STUCK with him in this match, I have to kick his ass! And do so in a way that our half assed CEO turns his attention to me and the Coalition, to give us the spot we deserve! So... To put it simple: Tonight I have a daunting, boring, stupid and pointless task... Which involves matching up with Evan Bourne... Which isn't a lot different than taking out the trash... What you just watched me do a moment ago. It is a boring task... But someone has to do it...
Ken leaned into the camera lens, smirking.
Mr. Anderson: So... If you want to learn a fun way to take out the trash I suggest you tune in when I'm on... That goes to all the fat idiots who live on their mom's basements and love wrestling, to AJ Styles, to The Miz, to our World Champion and our CEO... Tune in... You'll be... Elated... Mesmerised by...
MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!!!!!!
AAAAAAAAANDERSOOOONNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!
He stared into the camera, reaching for Michael Cole, before irish whipping him into the dumpster.
Mr. Anderson: Anderson...
He chewed on his bubble gum as Heyman smirked, clapping for him. Both men walked away leaving Michael Cole knocked out.
