Eric Bitchoff came up on the creturetron, sitting behind his desk with his feet propped up. A smile lay plastered across his face, which was quickly replaced by a frown.
"Shade? Correct me if I am wrong, but don't you have a match to actually be preparing for? Seems to me that you do. So rather than pretending to be Charlie Haas, why don't you get backstage and prepare to defend that championship before I just strip you of my brand's belt and award it to Bobo the Bear. Go on, Run along."
"As for your little award, Chris. I am afraid that I will not be coming out for it. I mean, why would I bother gracing these idiots in the fans with my presence when we both know that you will be giving that award to the boy whose head has been up your ass the most. So allow me to just congratulate Kevin McKain on being Kiss Ass of the year, and I move along and prepare for my own segment that I have coming up shortly. Sound good to you, Chris?"
