An advertisement for Semiwagan Shine draws to a close; a large man with a moose tattoo on his forearm places his hand suggestively on the thigh of a young blonde, as she furtively sips from the titular brown bottle…

We’re back to XWA Vendetta, but the fed’s cameras are a long way from home. The unblinking eye of the camcorder leers at the front door of a log cabin, leaning and coated with moss. Passing through the open door, it surveys the human jetsam within. In the far corner sits a bald old man with one eye and a scruffy beard, his belly flapping under a set of grease-stained long johns. To his right, a man rubs liniment, drawn from a rusty tin, over feet that have no toes whatsoever. On the bunks behind them a half dozen men lay crammed on the pallet, spooning one another awkwardly. In the kitchen, a spindly man, with ¼ of a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a permanent oily sheen on his face, tends to a pot of food too obscured by smoke and steam to be discernible. Finally, seated at the table is Cletus & Big Jim. Cletus seems confused, shaking his head, while Jim fixes his gaze somewhere between himself and the far wall, staring into nothing.

They don’t even know our names Jimmy…they talk like we ain't even here.  They talk like we haven't beaten them week in and week out.  They're already looking past us.

They’ll learn Cletus.

To them, we’re just two fellas that fell off the turnip truck; dumb as a load of coal. They don’t know…

No, no they don’t, but we’ll teach ‘um.

Damn right.

Jim starts to get agitated, remembering past battles

We’ll teach ‘um, the same way we taught the Legion, the same way we taught AJ Scally…

Cletus smirks, remembering one night in particular.

The same way we taught Charlotte the Harlot?

Maybe so Cletus, maybe so…

The Crew now turns to face the camera

Now it started a few weeks ago when we proved that D-Volution was nothing more than a theory…

And this week, Micheals and JHalc, fresh from a pair of big wins, you arrive just in time to get cut down and put through the mill.

Boys, I’ll give it you, good on ya for stepping up and offering a crack at the gold. Every man in that locker room is thinking the same thing, they’d rather sit beside you than in your place. A scholars ink lasts longer than a martyrs blood, but lucky for you they’ll write plenty about how we make you bleed.

You wanna talk about the pay per view, well you go right ahead, but when the dust settles I’ll have you both moaning like a cub bear playin' with himself...

And then you'll ever forget us ever again….

Yessir, every time you hear our names your hearts'll beat quick and your arseholes'll pucker...

So bring Nova and Carnage, but don't you go mistakin' a goat's beard for a fine stallion's tail.

You can have them and everyone else in your corner, but it doesn't make a damn day's bit of difference.

You've had a good run boys, but anyone can tell you that nothing lasts forever. Rest assured that when we get those titles, we’ll be headin’ straight to Mosie Doran’s on the Station Road. We’ll hawk the gold for scrap and have us a helluva time, drinkin’ Hermit’s wine and feastin’ on baloney n’ beans!

Jim starts to zone out and begins sniffing the air

Victory…It’s so close I can smell it…like a cow moose in heat…

The Logging Crew stroll off-screen as Cletus sings a manipulated version of The Cruel Mother

Fuck I always love reading these. Awesome work!