CHICAGO’S FINEST BALLROOM

A gathering of Chi-Town’s most fabulous well-to-do! Women in cocktail dresses, men dressed-to-the-nines!

Michael Jordan smokes a giant cigar while signing autographs!

CM Punk, former XWF European champion, draws X’s on people’s hands…

Oprah gives out dances with her fellow Chicagoans like cars on her show!

…Now, she’s just straight-up giving away cars!

To sum up the night in one word? ‘Chicago’.

Three words? ‘Chicago as FUUUUUUUUUUUCK’.

And cutting a rug with his dear wife, Alysia…

The Savior of Chicago, Mister Oz! The XWF’s Resident Man-Beast and his beauty foxtrot in perfect harmony…

As the big brass band plays smooooooooth Chicago jazz, Mayor Brandon Johnson, microphone-in-hand, takes center-stage.

”Thanks to Chicago’s Savior, Mister Oz, for organizing this wonderful night! ”

Suddenly, from the kitchen, waiters carrying miniature vienna franks on poppy seed buns!

MJ sets down his cigar to take one…

Punk removes the bun, but happily gets his daily protein!

Oprah takes two in each hand!

Oz and Alysia exit the dance floor to get a little snack with everyone else… Oz secures a mini Chicago dog, comically small in his massive hands…

The Mayor licks relish from his fingers… Someone hands him a note.

”And thank you to… The King of Cuisine! Dom Durango! For donating tonight’s Chicago-themed charcuterie!”

”And Dom included a special message for our host tonight!”

The Mayor unfurls the note...

”…Think you’re safe? Believe in Me…” The Mayor chuckles. ”Of course, he’s referencing Mister Oz’s famous catchph-”

”Oooooooooh….”

The gala attendees suddenly grasp at their guts!

MJ’s intestines have been disrespected… he’s taking that personally to a trash can…

Punk looks like he’s in no shape to GTS, but instead GTNT: Go to NEAREST TOILET!

The people that received those free Oprah cars suddenly get a whole different prize!

YOU GET DIARRHEA!

AND YOU GET DIARRHEA!

AND YOOOOOOOU GET DIARRHEA!

The jazz band writhes in agony! The only scatting now is with literal scat!

The gala attendees rush to the restrooms, but the lines are as clogged as each of their digestive tracts!

Chicagoans dressed in the most opulent luxuries are now fist-fighting, battling for the limited number of stalls!

This elegant soiree has become a feculent free-for-all!

Oz’s party turns to shit in every meaning!

His wealth, his strength… completely useless at this moment.

He turns to Alysia, telling her it’s the Chicago dogs, don’t eat one!

…But there’s mustard on her lips… Too late…

She drops to her knees… he takes her in his arms…

And at that moment…

---

”FFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH! MY BOOOOOOOOOWELS! FFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!”

Dom, holding an official Mister Oz™ action figure in one hand and a standard-issue Barbie doll in the other, shakes the Barbie as he motorboats his lips, imitating a rushing liquidy sound.

”So, Oz’s wife shits herself so hard she dies. As does everyone who consumed my virus-laden hors d'oeuvres… Eventually leaving Oz in a pile of shit-covered corpses, forever solidifying the memory of Chicago, America’s festering asshole.”

…

Dom lobs the visual aid toys away.

”That’s Plan A. Thoughts?”

A Gray-Eyed Man in a dark suit glares out the window.

”...Puerile.”

”...Unimpressed?”

…The Gray-Eyed Man straightens his cufflinks silently.

”What about Plan B?”

Dom retrieves a cart…

Atop the cart is an incredibly detailed cityscape diorama.

”This represents Chicago.”

”And this?” Dom claps.

WHAM! A GIANT MEATBALL drops from the ceiling!

Meat splatters everywhere!

The tray buckles, a wheel gives out! The city topples to the floor, breaking into particle board shards!

”Represents a Chicago-sized meatball.”

”So… you’ll crush approximately two-point-million people to death with a… very large meatball.”

”Well, SOME will survive the impact. And they will be boiled alive from the meat’s fresh-from-the-oven four-hundred-degree heat. Leaving a marinara-scented, mouth-watering crater.”

…

”Does this… inane exercise… have a purpose?”

”I want to break this Oswald.”

”Leave his precious city in barren ruins.”

”Businesses bankrupt, children dead, wife mourning and barren.”

Dom brushes meat sauce off his nose.

”Something like that.”

”You’re thinking of how to break a man.”

”Oswald is a psychopath.”

“His city?”

“His business?”

“His family?”

“He only cares for these things as an extension of himself.”

“If you wish to break Oswald…”

”Break him the way a hunter breaks an apex predator.”

“Step into his domain.”

“Where he feels strongest.”

“And take his head.”

---

Inside a meat freezer…

Dom hangs.

His legs drawn up into his chest…

Meathooks dig into his back, holding him upright…

”Hello Oswald.”

“Testing your cute little stipulation.”

”Meathooks, huh?”

“From the man claiming to be…?”

“Utterly and permanently fucked up?”

”I was expecting something that, even without a soul, would chill me to my core.”

…

”Meh.”

”Do you even know what a meathook’s for, Oswald?”

“It’s to tenderize meat. Softening muscle fibers in the steak.”

“Typical wrestling moron. Taking culinary innovation and turning it into stupid violence.”

“If wrestling pre-existed the wheel? People would hit each other over the head with wheels and we’d all be walking instead of driving.”

…

”Disappointing, Oswald.”

”But, then.”

“Disappointment’s been your whole career, hasn’t it?”

“You lose and lose and LOSE.”

“The only competitor in Anarchy history to lose three times in the same night.”

“And that wasn’t a one-off. The Anarchy prior, you lost to the Revolution champion in back-to-back falls.”

“Oswald was averaging two-and-a-half losses per show for a CALENDAR month.”

“A failure of a caliber we may never see duplicated.”

…

”And the audacity… to pretend you don’t know your opponent.”

”Hello, I’m Oz. Your name’s vaguely familiar but I don’t recognize it.”

“Said to an opponent who’s been on his show for TWO years.”

“Who kicked your ass.”

…

”I’m ready, Oswald.”

“For you to act like you don’t know me.”

“I’ll introduce myself.”

“I’m Dom.”

“And I’ll jam my thumb deep into your eye socket.”

“Remove your eye.”

“And turn it towards you.”

“So, you can see what everyone else sees.”

“A pathetic whelp pretending he’s prime rib. When he’s actually cow ass.”

…

”Why?”

“Fuck you, that’s why.”