( I walk through a mall that is pretty much like every other mall you’ve ever seen in your life. The mall is full of bustling crowds of people trying to get from store A to store B to buy crappy merchandise they don’t really need and could probably live without, but the possession of said merchandise makes them feel better about their ultimately pointless existences. You see it really wouldn’t matter if most of these people ceased to exist or never existed to begin with that’s how little difference their lives make in the grand scheme of things. But I on the other hand live a life of purpose a life of meaning. I am a fifth generation wrestling superstar feared and revered the world over. I am currently dressed in a rather expensive grey shark skin colored suit with a dark blue dress shirt, no tie and a pair of black wingtip shoes so shiny you could see your reflection in them. As I walk through the mall a man comes up to me, a man whom I’ve never seen before in my life. The man approaches me and begins speaking as though he knows me from somewhere, but to be honest he doesn’t know me from the hole in his ass. )


Man: Hey remember me?

Crawford: No, sorry I don’t.

Man: You sure you don’t remember me it’s Gary Magyar we was in the fourth grade together, not in the same class but the same grade we went to the same school.


Crawford: No sorry Gary I honestly don’t remember you. I was born and raised in Canada. Perhaps you saw me on television and confused me for someone else. I am fairly famous at what I do. I’m a professional wrestler who everyone knows and most people have a healthy fear of.


Magyar: No you wasn’t born in Canada your from Trenton, NJ and went to Sayan School with me. I know because I used to beat the crap out of you and take your lunch money. You don’t forget a person you put through hell.


(I was starting to get annoyed at his insistence that he knew me when he didn’t.)


Crawford: LOOK… I’m From Canada Gary and am a very successful professional wrestler like I said before you have probably seen me on television, on the cover of a magazine or somewhere else and in your mind confused me with someone you knew as a child.


Magyar: No buddy… I’ve seen you before on the playground I used to whoop your ass daily and if I have to I might just whoop it again to jog your memory. I will not be forgotten.


(Magyar without saying another word lunges toward me and eats several fist to the face. I then repeatedly nail him in the mid-section with knees and nail a brain buster suplex. I connect with a super kick and a brutal elevated DDT and Magyar appears to be out. I rip his shirt clean off and sign my autograph across his back.)


Crawford: Just so you don’t forget just who and the fuck I am you redneck piece of garbage.


(I give him a few kicks to the ribs for good measure and continue along before I’m approached by someone else. )


Other Person: Hey remember me… it’s Billy Morton I gave you your first blowjob out behind the swing set at the school yard.


(Without saying another word I give Morton the same treatment I gave Magyar capping it off by autographing his back and continue along my way toward the exit of the mall)


(Fade out)